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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23356837">please don't fall in love with someone else</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourlovelybones/pseuds/ourlovelybones'>ourlovelybones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>you were my best four years [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Friendship, M/M, Romance, You Were My Best Four Years, four years later</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:34:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23356837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourlovelybones/pseuds/ourlovelybones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt falls into silence as he walks. “You think they’ll be mad?”</p><p>“After everything we found out tonight, you think we should care? It’s just one night,” Thomas reasons. He stops on the corner, where a darkly-lit bar is hidden underground. He gestures his head down the steps to Newt. “Wanna try it?”</p><p>Newt scrunches his face. “Looks like the kind of place we’d go when we were in uni.”</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>[the one where four years later, the gang reunites for teresa and minho's wedding]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>you were my best four years [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. please don't fall in love with someone else</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! who's here after the #TDClivetweet from twitter?</p><p>i wanted to have this uploaded literally two months ago, but i've been rewriting it like crazy, trying to make sure i stay as close to their characters as possible, because of the sheer nature of this story. it's based on a fic i've been writing for a private ship, but i liked it so much that i wanted to adapt it for newtmas. it was also supposed to be a one-shot but i realized it would fare better in three chapters, which is another reason it's been taking so long. and here's the first chapter, to mend all of our hearts after watching tdc!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It starts on a drunken night in New York City. </p><p>Thomas gets there on a Friday evening, the first time he’s been to the city in almost three years. Penn Station is still filled with too many tourists, lugging around huge suitcases just like his, looking dazedly in awe at all of the bright lights and screens announcing the arrivals and departures of different trains. His train arrived earlier than he expected it would and he’s not sure if he should go straight to his hotel, or wait for Teresa, Minho, and Harriet.</p><p>It’d been three years since he’d come to the city, almost longer since he had seen Minho and Harriet.</p><p>He decides to wait inside of a cheap pizza shop, ordering a beer and a slice of the greasiest cheese pizza he’d ever eaten. He’s tired enough to consider putting his feet up on the seat across from him under the table and close his eyes, but he knows he’d fall asleep and accidentally miss all of their calls to let him know they’d all finally gotten to Penn. So he suffers. He picks at the cheese and orders another beer.</p><p>Teresa spots him first somehow in the sea of people at Penn Station, when they arrive almost a half an hour later. “Tom!”</p><p>He sees her bright, sparkling diamond on her ring finger before he necessarily sees her. She looks as vibrant as ever running towards him, in a bright blue dress that matches her eyes. She barrels into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. “I’m so happy you made it. We’ve all missed you so much!”</p><p>Minho follows behind her, a bit more muscular than he used to be back at Glade University. He dresses better too, in a sharp suit and shiny black loafers instead of a muscle tee and joggers. His hands are still stuffed in his pockets, his jet black hair still gelled back. </p><p>Thomas smiles into Teresa’s shoulder, grateful for the few seconds he has before it starts to get awkward. “Good to see you too, T.”</p><p>When she pulls away, Thomas almost slinks back into his seat before remembering his manners. He extends his hand to Minho. “How are you?”</p><p>Minho raises his eyebrows at his outstretched hand, before rolling his eyes. He opens his arms for a hug. “Come on.”</p><p>Thomas tries to bite back his grin but accepts Minho’s peace offer. </p><p>“See? I told you two it was all going to be fine,” Teresa gloats smugly. “Now we’re just waiting for Harriet to come – her train’s running a bit late – then we can drop your stuff off at the hotel before going out for drinks!”</p><p>“Who’s all coming?” Thomas tries to ask casually, avoiding making eye contact with either one of them. </p><p>But he still catches them exchanging wary looks. </p><p>“Well, all the normal people, you know,” Teresa starts to say when it’s clear that Minho isn’t going to say anything. “Brenda’s still around here, and she’s still dating Alby, so they’re coming. Um, Rachel and Aris and Frypan were all invited, but I’m not sure if they’re actually coming tonight but they’ll definitely be at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. And well, uh, obviously Harriet and Sonya, and you know. Him too.”</p><p><em> Him too </em>didn’t warm Thomas’s heart as much as it did send him spiraling into a fit of nervousness. He swallows back his concern with a tight-lipped smile, hoping he doesn’t look constipated. “Okay. Cool.”</p><p>“You know, it’s awkward for all of us as it’s going to be for you two,” Minho blurts out. Teresa elbows him in the gut.</p><p>“What he <em> means </em> to say is,” Teresa starts to say. She falters as she realizes Minho explicitly said what he meant to say. “Look Tom, if it’s uncomfortable for you at all…”</p><p>“Just know that we’re all uncomfortable too,” Minho finishes her sentence. Teresa elbows him again. Minho elbows her right back. </p><p>Thomas snorts. “It’s okay. I just wanted to know if all our old friends were coming. That’s all.”</p><p>Neither Teresa nor Minho seem to buy it. He and Newt hadn’t spoken in nearly four years, since the break-up. It would be generous to call them old friends at this point.</p><p>“Besides,” Thomas says in an effort to change the topic to a much lighter one and holds up his second, half-finished beer. “I’ve already gotten started. You two need to catch up.”</p><p>Minho cracks a smirk. “Like you could ever outdrink me.”</p><p>“Like <em> you two </em> could ever outdrink <em> me </em>.” Teresa rolled her eyes and looked to the waiter standing behind the cash register. “Two more, please.”</p><p>By the time Harriet’s train arrives, she finds the three of them shouting over each other, with red faces and empty beer bottles scattered on the table. The poor waiter, who had the daunting task of trying to tell them they were bothering the other customers, was having no luck getting them to calm down.</p><p>“You just don’t like Jeter because he was on the Yankees,” Minho yells at Thomas. “That’s like saying Babe Ruth wasn’t a great baseball player which would fucking be batshit. And you know what? He was on the Yankees too!”</p><p>“And on the Red Sox, <em> and </em> on the Braves! But that doesn’t mean shit. Jeter was not God’s gift to baseball, it was Tom Seaver,” Thomas shouts back. There’s no reason for them to be shouting at each other, they aren’t even mad at each other. In fact, Thomas is almost what could be considered happy, for a moment. Back in university when they drank too much beer and got too excited about sports, they would get so heated that they started screaming at each other to prove their points. </p><p>It never bothered Teresa all that much, since she had her own strong-willed opinions and thought the two of them were idiots. But it used to drive Newt crazy, since he could give less than two fucks about sports, especially baseball. Whenever they would start arguing, Newt would roll his eyes and start dancing and singing horribly off-key on their living room table, just to prove he could cause just as much of a ruckus as they could.</p><p>And even though it’d been over four years, the memory still tugs at Thomas’s heart, suddenly bringing his mood down again.</p><p>“Some things never change,” Harriet chuckles as she comes up to the table.</p><p>Even though Teresa and Minho jump up to hug her, that statement alone nearly knocks the wind out of Thomas because it’d been <em> four </em> fucking years since the last time he’d seen her. Four fucking years since his whole life had turned upside down and he had to learn all over again that forever does not exist.</p><p>Still, he stands up with a smile plastered on his face and opens his arms to hug her. “Hey, Miss. Big Time Nurse! So proud of you.”</p><p>“Well, look at you! Mr. Financial Advisor at one of the biggest firms in DC!” Harriet boasted. Her smile was sadder in nature, as if she too were thinking about her graduation ceremony two years ago from Nursing school that Thomas was noticeably absent from. </p><p>The four of them pulled Harriet and Thomas’s suitcases to the subway below ground, where they tried to catch each other up on everything that had happened over the last few years. It pained Thomas slightly to realize that when he and Newt broke up, it rippled throughout the rest of their friend group. It didn't even seem that Harriet and Minho had spoken in a few years, even though there was no reason for them not to. </p><p>He vowed in that moment to be civil for the rest of the weekend. If he saw Newt, he would smile and nod politely as if they were strangers running into each other on the street. Maybe even shake his hand and ask him how he’s been. And once all of their friends realized they could be normal around the two of them, he might even pretend to be interested in hearing about Newt’s boyfriend of the past four years.</p><p>It’s not until they’re getting off of the subway, pushed and pressed against other tourists with suitcases, that Harriet leans over to Thomas and tells him, “Hey, by the way, I’m really sorry. I wanted to tell you now before it came out while we were drunk or anything.”</p><p>Thomas frowns in confusion, even though the pit of his stomach gives him an indication of what she’s talking about. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Harriet sighs, the sadness in her eyes more prevalent than ever. “I should’ve kept in touch.”</p><p>Thomas is still slightly tipsy from all the beer he had consumed with Minho and Teresa earlier. His frown only deepens as he asks again, “What do you mean?”</p><p><em> He </em> was the one who broke off contact with the world in those Dark Days when he had to start learning how to live alone again. He missed more calls than he answered, only talking to his supervisor or his mother or Teresa during that time. </p><p>“It was easier not to talk to you guys than it was to choose,” Harriet explains. Minho and Teresa are holding hands ahead, blissfully unaware of their two friends struggling with their baggage behind them.</p><p>“I never wanted you guys to choose,” Thomas starts to say.</p><p>“No, you never asked that of us. And neither did he. But it was easier than fooling ourselves that everything was going to be the same.” Harriet sighs as the foregrounds of their hotel finally come into view.</p><p>Teresa turns around with a jubilant smile, her cheeks flushed pink from the summer warmth or the beer still circulating in her system. “We’re here! Minho and I are going to grab a cocktail while you guys get checked in and stuff.”</p><p>“Do you really need another cocktail before we go drinking?” Harriet asks doubtfully.</p><p>Minho shakes his head. “Do you know nothing about me, Emmanuel? I could drink the whole damn bar as a pregame and still be ready for tonight.”</p><p>“Last time you ‘drank the whole damn bar as a pregame’ in Punta Cana, we nearly had to take you to the hospital.” Harriet rolled her eyes as they stepped into the entrance of the hotel.</p><p>The lobby was exquisitely warm, golden wallpaper everywhere with bright, sparkling chandeliers lighting up the night. Thick, red, velvet couches were spread everywhere for guests checking in and children running around on the dark, maroon carpet.</p><p>And it’s <em> then </em> Thomas sees him.</p><p>Newt standing in the center of the lobby, most likely bickering with his sister, whom Thomas barely even registers. It’s like the chandeliers are shining down on Newt and Newt only, taking Thomas’s entire breath away. He turns away quickly, steeling his focus on the concierge in front of him. He hands over his credit card and his driver's license robotically, barely registering anything the concierge tells him about the room.</p><p>Thomas was convinced he was over him. Sure it’d taken him two years, whereas it looked like it’d taken Newt only <em> three seconds</em>, but he was <em> over </em> him. There was no reason he was suddenly having heart palpitations like a teenage girl seeing her crush for the first time at a school dance. </p><p>Thomas takes his key from the concierge, not even waiting for Harriet. He heads in the complete opposite direction of Newt, despite the fact his room was on <em> that </em> side of the hotel, and rushes into the elevator before anyone else can come in. </p><p>The elevator is filled with mirrors, his reflection staring at him from every angle. He looks pathetic like this – he had made a vow to remain <em> civil</em>. He couldn’t be civil if every time he saw his ex-boyfriend, he had a heart attack and needed to run away. </p><p>So he stands up straighter and stares one of his reflections in the eyes. He hopes and prays to God that there’s no cameras watching him as he says, “You are fine. You have to be. You are fine. You have to be.”</p><p>Over and over like a mantra, until the elevator doors open and he has to believe it. He lugs his suitcase down the hallway until he finally finds his room and falls onto the mattress in the middle of the room. The mattress felt like you were sleeping on a cloud delivered straight from Heaven. The bathroom had one of those rain showers and an assortment of soaps and shampoos. Minho and Teresa had gone all out for their guests, treating them to one of the most luxurious hotels in Manhattan.</p><p>But Thomas’s real interest point was the bar, where multiple nips of hard liquor were on display.</p><p>He slips the entire rack of nips into the pocket of his blazer and washes his face. He stares at the mirror, before tipping his head back and taking a shot. “You are fine. You have to be.”</p><p>He meets the rest of his friends back down in the lobby, where they’re all gathered by the entrance to the bar. Teresa spots him approaching first and smiles. “Tom, you’re back! We can finally head out now.”</p><p>He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, hoping he’s not too red already. “Didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about them. Harriet only just got back down two minutes ago. Hi Thomas!” Sonya Newton exclaims, throwing her arms around him. Besides Teresa, Sonya was the only one he had moderately kept in touch with.</p><p>After they graduated, Thomas had accepted an internship that would allow him to spend three months in DC and the remaining three months in London, where he and Sonya had sublet a flat together in Camden. It was right as everything was going to shit, but Sonya had made it clear even after that she was always going to have his back, which made him more grateful than she ever knew.</p><p>“You look bloody fantastic,” Sonya grins and she loops her arm through his. “We’re going to get ourselves pissed drunk tonight and I don’t want you to be able to even say your name by the end of it.”</p><p>She pulls him towards the entrance before he can even glance over his shoulder and offer Newt the polite smile he had been practicing. He’s barely even able to look at Newt at all, with all of Sonya’s jabbering.</p><p>Which he begins to suspect is the point.</p><p>“So my flight was delayed, can you believe that? I was supposed to get here <em> yesterday </em> morning, because I told my boss I was here on ‘official business’,” Sonya explains. “But I didn’t even get here until three hours ago!”</p><p>“Sounds like torture.”</p><p>“You think? I was stuck in Heathrow for hours. I never even want to step foot in another airport ever again.”</p><p>“What kind of official business does your boss think you’re doing?”</p><p>The walk to the club that Minho and Teresa have chosen for the night isn’t far from the hotel, so they can save their money for taxis on the ride back, where according to Sonya they better be so fucking drunk they won’t be able to say their names.</p><p>Thomas is hyper aware of the group behind him, walking leisurely and chatting mildly, whereas Sonya’s heeled boots click-clack against the pavement as she power-walks, talking a mile a minute. </p><p>“Why are we running?” Thomas whispers, when she finally takes a moment to breathe.</p><p>Sonya’s eyes flicker around, almost avoiding him. “We all agreed not to tell you this, but I think you should know. In fact, I never agreed to it – but that’s beyond the matter. You have to promise you won’t tell the others I told you this.”</p><p>Thomas narrows his eyes, cocking his head to the side. “Are you trying to tell me British military secrets or something?”</p><p>Sonya laughs a little too loudly. “Oh Thomas, you’re so funny.”</p><p>He tries to refrain from looking behind them as well. “Oh Sonya, you’re so coy.”</p><p>Sonya sighs deeply. “Okay. You didn’t hear it from me, but Arthur and Newt broke up.”</p><p>Thomas frowns. “Arthur? <em> That </em> was his name? <em> Arthur </em>?”</p><p>Sonya nods. She continues walking fast, as if the others in their own inebriated states would even catch onto the fact that they’re talking about Newt and <em> Arthur</em>.</p><p>“That’s the ugliest name I’ve ever heard of in my entire life,” Thomas decides stubbornly. He’s not doing too well at this being <em> civil </em> kind of thing.</p><p>“Look, we didn’t want to tell you at first –”</p><p>“Wait a minute, you keep saying that.” Thomas’s frown deepens. “<em>We</em>. Who’s we?”</p><p>Now, Sonya looks like a deer caught in the headlights. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Thomas almost rolls his eyes. “Sonya.”</p><p>She groans and walks even faster – how her feet haven’t fallen off at this point is beyond Thomas. “Look, you seriously have to promise not to say anything.”</p><p>“I haven’t said anything so far, have I?”</p><p>“Seriously, Thomas.”</p><p>“Seriously, Sonya,” he mimics her accent. “I won’t say anything.”</p><p>She sighs again. “It was hard when you two broke up. We still loved you both, but we didn’t want you to feel like we were choosing one of you over the other.”</p><p>Thomas nearly rolls his eyes to the back of his head. “I never wanted you guys to feel like that.”</p><p>“I know, I know, but … it was hard,” Sonya stammers. “So sometimes, we just, got together. The four of us.”</p><p>Thomas stops abruptly. “The fuck? The four of you?”</p><p>Sonya tugs at his elbow to keep him moving. “It wasn’t anything serious, I promise. It was just like, you know if I was ever in the States or anything, we might get coffee.”</p><p>Thomas just stares at her. Harriet and Minho were better actors than they let on, pretending at the train station that it'd been the first time <em>they'd</em> seen each other in years. “Are you serious? You’ve been here in the States, without telling me?”</p><p>“Thomas, don’t get mad. If we invited you, we’d have to invite Newt, and if we invited him, we’d have to invite Arthur. What were we supposed to do?”</p><p>“Not act like fucking children?” Thomas answers in a tone that to him is cool and chill, but might have been interpreted by Sonya in a different manner, based on her own eye roll.</p><p>He’s grateful that they’ve just approached the club and without waiting for the rest of them, he barges in and shows his license to the bouncer. “We’re here for the reservation under Minho and Teresa.”</p><p>Minho and Teresa had gone all out and reserved two tables with bottle service for the night, most likely spending close to five grand on the night alone. By the time Thomas is led to their tables, Brenda, Alby, and Frypan are already all waiting there. Brenda lights up when she sees him.</p><p>“Thomas! You made it!” She wraps her arms around him in a hug and he knows that she doesn’t mean it as such, but he feels the dig deep in his heart. He knows he's garnered a reputation for flaking at the last minute, choosing his own solitude over group plans when his friends came to visit in DC. They'd long given up, even inviting Thomas to come visit them out of DC.</p><p>Sonya smiles warmly at Brenda and their friends when she catches up to them, but gives Thomas a pointed look, <em>can we please talk about this? </em></p><p>He turns to Brenda. “Can we start drinking now?”</p><p>Brenda laughs, as if he’s making a funny joke. “We have to wait for the bride and groom-to-be, you bastard. Are they close behind or did you leave them back at the hotel?”</p><p>Thomas and Sonya must have been walking so fast that smoke trailed from their feet. The others don’t arrive for another five minutes, which is the first time Thomas gets his first real look at Newt, up and close and personal. </p><p>His sandy blond hair is a bit shorter now, the bags under his eyes deeper and more pronounced. After they’d graduated college, Newt had started smoking more to help him fall asleep, a habit that ticked Thomas off more than he found it sexy at the time, until he picked up the habit himself months later. His frame was still bony, his black dress pants tightly wrapped around his hips.</p><p>Brenda comes closer to Thomas as if she’s just leaning in for a hug. “Hey. If you need to black out tonight, I’ll make sure you get back to the hotel in one piece.”</p><p>He gives her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”</p><p>They all hold up their glasses, filled with champagne, to Minho and Teresa, who kiss each other obnoxiously. Thomas smiles at them, remembering how once upon a time he couldn’t even stand the idea of the two of them together, thinking that Minho was only destined to break Teresa’s heart. He was so happy to see them here, together, getting ready to make the biggest leap of their romantic journey yet. And they deserved each other, he thought. They were both fiercely stubborn, intelligent, loyal to a fault – and they made each other happy.</p><p>That was all that Thomas really cared about.</p><p>He drinks his champagne flute in one sip and graciously pours himself another. The only way he’s going to survive tonight is getting unfathomably drunk and he plans to take advantage of all the free alcohol – to him – being offered.</p><p>Sonya hovers by his side, sipping her drink daintily like a lady. “Thomas, I’m really sorry about –”</p><p>“Don’t be,” he cuts her off. “It’s fine.”</p><p>She sighs. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”</p><p>“I’m not upset,” Thomas says, in a tone that implies he is still very much upset. </p><p>“Then why won’t you look at me?”</p><p>
  <em> Because looking at you reminds me of looking at your brother and I’m still trying to figure out how to be civil at this point. </em>
</p><p>Thomas shrugs. “It’s dark in here.”</p><p>He can practically see her roll her eyes. “Okay, fine. Wanna dance then?”</p><p>The last thing Thomas wants to do is dance. “Sure. I guess.”</p><p>He follows Sonya onto the dance floor, where a bunch of other mildly young adults are swaying their hips to some nostalgic hip-hop beats. He thinks about the nights at Glade U, when they would sneak into clubs like this, looking exactly like underaged college students trying to mingle with adults as old as he is now. It unnerves him how much time has passed, even though it feels like just yesterday they all claimed to be a family.</p><p>“Have you been seeing anyone lately?” Sonya asks. She has to shout over the music to be heard.</p><p>Thomas shrugs. “Here and there.”</p><p>He sees people for a few hours each night after going out to a bar with his coworkers. He doesn’t get too close anymore and doesn’t stay the night when he meets an attractive person. It’s always their place, never his. That way before the morning light slips through the window, he can ease himself out of the bed he didn’t sleep a wink in, and gather all of his clothes before slipping out of the door.</p><p>Forever didn’t exist anymore to him and he stopped trying to pretend that it did.</p><p>Sonya takes another sip of her drink, her pinky lifting in the air. “Same.”</p><p>Thomas raises his eyebrow. “What does that mean?”</p><p>“It means I’ll tell you when you’re ready to tell me.” She winks.</p><p>He rolls his eyes and holds up his empty champagne flute. “I’m getting another drink.”</p><p>He heads back to their tables, where most of the group has dispersed except for Brenda and Alby making out. He chuckles to himself and stays out of their hair, pouring himself another glass.</p><p>“Hello.”</p><p>Thomas nearly jumps back in surprise, startled to hear another British accent. “Oh. Hi.”</p><p>Newt’s standing behind him, holding up his own empty glass. “I ran out, too.”</p><p>Thomas hands over the bottle of champagne to him. “Here.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Thomas has half a mind to turn around and pretend this encounter never happened. It would be well within his right to. There’s no reason he needs to linger while Newt pours himself another glass.</p><p>But he stays. </p><p>He waits until Newt’s finished the bottle and sets it back down on the table. With a deep breath, he holds his glass up. “Cheers?”</p><p>Newt grins a little, the kind of smile that used to drive Thomas crazy. “Cheers.”</p><p>They clink their glasses together, never breaking eye-contact. The entire exchange unnerves Thomas. He feels like he’s watching himself watch Newt, from an outside body. In some parallel universe, they never broke up. In another parallel universe, they never dated. In a completely different parallel universe, they never met so they never fell in love so they never ended up staring at each other like this over glasses of champagne.</p><p>But in this universe, here they were. Their friends were all around them, most likely watching this awkward encounter with nosy eyes and wild imaginations. It wouldn’t be fair to them to let the past haunt their actions.</p><p>Thomas sighs and clears his throat. “I think we should be civil.”</p><p>Newt raises his eyebrows. “Civil?”</p><p>“Yeah. We should just try to pretend that everything’s normal, for Minho and Teresa’s sake. Otherwise when Harriet gets married, we might not even get invited.”</p><p>Newt looks taken aback. “You think she wouldn’t invite us?”</p><p>Thomas drinks half his glass in one gulp. “They already hang out without us whenever your sister comes to the country. Because it’s ‘easier’ than choosing between us.”</p><p>“What are you talking about? Last I heard, the rest of them hadn’t spoken to each other in just as much time. They wouldn’t all hang out without us – not even Sonya.”</p><p>Thomas chuckles drily. “That’s what I thought, too.”</p><p>Newt turns around, to where the rest of their friends had indeed been watching them. They all turned to each other clumsily, trying to pretend they had been dancing the entire time.</p><p>He knows he isn’t supposed to say anything, but this was Newt. He’d always told Newt things he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else. </p><p>Newt sighs and presses his fingers to his forehead. “Well, that’s bloody fantastic.”</p><p>Thomas nods as he finishes the rest of his champagne. He unabashedly pours himself a fourth drink. </p><p>“Look, Thomas, I know this is all my fault and I’m sorry,” Newt says. He stares hard at Thomas, a truly apologetic look in his eyes. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”</p><p>
  <em> After the break-up, Thomas decided he was going through an identity crisis and started seeing a therapist after work. His mother had encouraged him to see a therapist after his father abandoned them, but he never spoke to the therapist because he wanted to be playing baseball with his dad. Not talking about it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Almost fifteen years later, Thomas sat on a similar plush couch in a similar square-shaped room, with a candle burning in the background. This time, he talked. He talked and he cried and he talked some more, before crying again. His therapist was a middle-aged woman with cropped silver hair and black, thick-rimmed glasses. She watched him as he broke down in tears, explaining what a mess his life had become. She didn’t reach over and hug him, but there was a warmth in her eyes that let him show his emotions to her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If not only for the fact that there was no one else he could talk to, in the close vicinity. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It sounds like you hate your job, Thomas,” she’d said, worry lines crinkling on her forehead. “And that it affected your relationship.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I never brought any of that home, though,” Thomas had sobbed. “I always kept it at the office.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “When you don’t communicate your feelings, it builds up walls between you and other people.” His therapist spoke with her hands, a gesture that he liked. “Whether you mean to or not. Your ex might have sensed walls growing between you two, unconsciously building them himself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He said we were kidding ourselves, pretending that we felt the same way about each other as we did in college.” Thomas feels another surge of tears coming, threatening to spill over as his voice cracks, “But I still feel the same way.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His therapist doesn’t smile, doesn’t reach over to hug him. In a weird sense it calms him when she just says, “But he doesn’t. And it’s not his fault, nor is it the end of the world for good. For a little while, it will feel like that. But time will pass, and you will still be growing and learning and healing.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It hadn't made him feel better, which was all he wanted at the time. He just wanted to know when that one day come, when he wasn't going to feel like this everyday. He moped outside of his therapist's office. He moped at the grocery store, at the liquor store, at every bar he went to. He moped on the phone, he moped at the office, he moped and moped and moped.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He moped on the train, where one day when he was sitting on the bench at the station, an older woman sat next to him. He had been scrolling through old pictures of him and Newt, trying to decide if he should delete them or keep them as a personal reminder of how he had fucked up so bad. He hadn't even realized he was breathing heavily, close to crying in fucking <span class="u">public</span>.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You know, son," a kind, soft voice said next to him. "You're going to be all right."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He stared at the woman in shock, surprised someone was speaking to him. "What?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She nodded to the phone in his hands. "The worst break-ups are the ones that leaving us feeling like we're never going to get over them. My first boyfriend broke up with me over the phone. Can you believe that?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He just stared back, unable to believe some old woman had been snooping at his private pictures.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"And I cried about it for days. I told my mama I was never going to fall in love again, and she just rolled her eyes at me, saying I was being dramatic."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thomas was grateful his mother never said such a thing to him. She answered every time he called her, even when he was drunk out of his mind. Even when it was three in the morning.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"But I truly thought it was the end for me. How could I be all right when I had been in love and all of a sudden, this man stopped loving me?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thomas narrowed his eyes. "He stopped loving you?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah. Worst couple weeks of my damn life. But you know what? About a month later, I met this handsome old fool at the grocery market. He flirted with me as he rang up my purchase, trying to tell me I was the finest little thing he'd seen all day."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Despite his initial reservations, Thomas found himself suddenly intrigued by this woman's story. "And then what?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oh, nothing ever came out of that. I wasn't gonna give my number to some stranger – this was the 70s!" The older woman laughed, and to Thomas's surprise, he grinned. "But it made me feel like I was desirable again, and that's what I think I needed. When that boyfriend of mine broke up with me, I thought no one would ever want me again. But people surprise you, young man. That's why I'm saying you're gonna be all right."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The train had pulled up to the platform by that point. She merely winked at me before getting up and getting on, the doors closing behind her. He watched the train speed off, with the kind old woman who somehow could sense the exact pain he was in.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He looked back at his phone, at the pictures of him and Newt. He surprised himself again, by not deleting them. By just closing the app and staring back at the platform, where another train was pulling up. He was going to be all right, she said. And somehow it meant more to him than his therapist's words. </em>
</p><p>So he looks at Newt tonight and sighs. “You already said all of that.”</p><p>“But I mean it –”</p><p>“I know,” Thomas cuts him off, though not unkindly. “But thank you. For apologizing. I don’t think I ever actually said that when you were … you know. Apologizing.”</p><p>Newt snorts, champagne bubbling up into his nose. His eyes widened as he sputtered, “Oh my God. It went up my nose.”</p><p>Thomas's jaw had dropped when Newt had first had the audacity to laugh at him. Now he just scoffs, “You laughed at me! You deserved that.”</p><p>“Thomas, you just <em> thanked </em> me for apologizing after fucking breaking your heart,” Newt reminds him. “What was I supposed to do? Say you’re welcome?”</p><p>The wounds are still open, and Newt’s words sprinkle over his blood like salt, but Thomas is drunk now. Things don't matter when you're drunk the way they do when you're sober. And apparently, Newt's drunk as all hell too. </p><p>“Not <em> laugh </em>at me. The least you could do would be to snort champagne up your nose.”</p><p>“Well, I’m happy to be of service.” Newt sniffles and then sneezes, looking at his hand. He shows it to Thomas, who just frowns. “I think I just sneezed out champagne.”</p><p>“That seems like such a you problem.”</p><p>“Thomas! What if I die? What if I explode, and champagne bursts all over the room?”</p><p>“Oh, you have such a high opinion of yourself. You’re not <em> filled </em> with champagne, like it’s fucking glitter or something.”</p><p>“And what if I am?”</p><p>“Then we should probably kill you and sell you on the black market.”</p><p>Neither Thomas nor Newt noticed their friends approaching, curious as to how the two who hadn’t spoken in four years were suddenly laughing so hard, and with each other. Their eyes widened comically at Thomas’s last statement, and when he finally notices them, a small part of him is gleeful. <em> That’s </em> what they get for being nosy.</p><p>And for hanging out without them over the past four years.</p><p>“Hey guys,” Minho says, holding his hands up in a peaceful surrender. “So what’s happening here?”</p><p>Thomas and Newt crack subtle grins at each other, a mutual understanding passing through their eyes. “I was just telling Newt that I’m going to kill him and sell him on the black market.”</p><p>Newt nods his head exuberantly. “But I’m going to kill Thomas first and sell him into human trafficking.”</p><p>Sonya just rolls her eyes, while Teresa and Harriet audibly gasp, their surprise heard even over the thumping bass.</p><p>“They’re just being dumbasses,” Sonya tells them. “They’re upset that we hang out without them.”</p><p>Teresa, Harriet, and Minho snap their heads to her, glaring. “You weren’t supposed to tell them!”</p><p>Sonya just throws her hands up, shrugging. “They were going to find out, anyways.”</p><p>Teresa sighs, turning back to Newt and Thomas ready to apologize. The words died on the tip of her tongue when she realized that they were no longer there. “Where the bloody fuck did they go?”</p><p> </p><p>I.</p><p> </p><p>Newt and Thomas clutch their sides, trying to hold in their laughter as they race down the street away from the club. Newt starts to wipe tears from his eyes.</p><p>“That was bloody brilliant,” he declares. “I wish we could’ve seen the look on their faces!”</p><p>They stop for a moment to catch their breath, leaning against the brick wall of an alleyway at least several blocks from the club. Thomas ignores the pungent smell of piss and rotting garbage in the summer heat, pulling a couple of the nips out from his blazer pocket and holding one up to Newt. Barely able to hold back their laughter, they clink the glasses together and take shots of pure whiskey. </p><p>Thomas looks back almost regretfully. “I kind of feel bad now. We probably shouldn’t have ditched them.”</p><p>“Hey, were you invited to Minho’s bachelor party?”</p><p>Thomas frowns. “He had a bachelor party?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Newt admits, shrugging. “I wasn’t invited if he was. And I’m the bloody best man of the fucking wedding.”</p><p>Thomas’s frown only deepens. “Hey, yeah. I’m T’s ‘Man’ of Honor and I never got invited to a bachelorette party, or anything.”</p><p>Newt rolls his eyes and points at Thomas’s dick. “I can think of a couple reasons why.”</p><p>“<em>Or </em>Minho’s bachelor party. It’s the principle,” Thomas says quickly, hoping the darkness of night hides his flushed cheeks. This shouldn’t be normal. He hates that it feels so normal between them. He loves that it can feel so normal between them again.</p><p>Newt sighs, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He flicks his lighter with his thumb. “We’ve been best mates since we were kids. And he doesn’t invite me to his bachelor party? He decides to hang out with all our friends, including my <em> sister</em>, but not me? Fuck that. We were well within our rights to ditch.”</p><p>This time Thomas shrugs. “She said they didn’t want to have to choose.”</p><p>Newt stops pacing. He looks at Thomas, that look of pity in his eyes everyone gave him when he told them that Newt broke up with him. “And it’s my fault. Here I am, getting all worked up over something, that was all my fault.”</p><p>What inevitably sucked about going to therapy for Thomas was realizing all of the faults that <em> he </em> had accumulated over the years. He had led his best friend on for almost two years because he was afraid of losing her. He nearly destroyed his relationship with Minho because he’d gotten too protective over Teresa, not believing Minho had changed his womanizing ways for the better and accused him of having daddy issues – which was completely him projecting himself onto Minho. Misery does fucking love company. </p><p>And after a few months time, he had to accept <em> his </em> faults in their break-up. It was true; Thomas hated his new job when they first moved to DC, while Newt loved his. Every night that Newt would come home, raving about how amazing his boss was and how incredible his coworkers were and how much he loved all of his tasks and responsibilities, Thomas bit back every complaint and grievance he had against his job. His supervisor yelled at him all the time, whether it was for being late or for mistranslating a <em> sentence </em> on an important financial document sent over from the Spain office. He had to work long hours with other miserable financial advisors in training and after work, he liked to calm his nerves with a cold beer or whiskey. He started coming home later. Newt started going to sleep earlier. </p><p>When it was time for Thomas to go to London, he couldn’t get out of the office fast enough, but he knew he was only fooling himself if he truly thought Newt would come with him. He had supposedly made his peace with the decision that Newt might want to stay in DC while he was gone, but some part of him hadn’t actually let himself believe it would be <em> true</em>. </p><p>“I never actually considered how much it hurt you,” Thomas mutters, fiddling with another one of the nips in his blazer pocket. “Not at the time. It’s not solely your fault, you know.”</p><p>“Thomas, you don’t have to try and make me feel better.”</p><p>“I’m not. Well, maybe, but that’s not the point.” Thomas leans his head back, his neck exposed, staring at the night sky. New York is one of the most polluted cities on the planet, but he wants to pretend that he was looking at the stars. “The point is, I’m not broken. And neither are you. We have to stop treating each other like we are, or else our friends are never going to want to hang out with us again.”</p><p>Newt leans back against the brick wall, next to him. “Do you think that … did you ever think … do you think that this was inevitable?”</p><p>Thomas doesn’t want to tell him how he spent every night alone in the bed they used to share thinking that very same question for months, with only the shadow of the moon on the mattress where Newt used to be for company. The question would keep him up for hours until suddenly the sun was rising outside and he had to get out of bed before he missed the subway for work.</p><p>So he doesn’t. He pushes himself off against the wall and moves out of the alleyway, holding his nose. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t take this much longer. We have to get out of here.”</p><p>Newt forces a grin. Thomas hates how he still thinks he knows all of Newt’s subtle mannerisms, the way the grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Where shall we go, then?”</p><p>“Anywhere,” Thomas decides, beginning to walk. The city is brimming with tourists and local young adults getting ready to hit the clubs and bars lining the street. Thomas walks idly with no physical destination in mind, but a clear goal to find more alcohol. </p><p>“Should we tell them where we’re going?” Newt asks.</p><p>“You’re the one who said we were within our rights to ditch.”</p><p>“Yeah, but they’ve all called me, like, ten times each.” Newt holds up his phone to show Thomas all the missed calls and texts. </p><p>Thomas frowns, pulling his own phone out of his pocket. He tries not to compare numbers, tries not to think about how they all collectively called Newt three more times than him. “Ah, who cares. They hang out without us.”</p><p>Newt falls into silence as he walks. “You think they’ll be mad?”</p><p>“After everything we found out tonight, you think we should care? It’s just one night,” Thomas reasons. He stops on the corner, where a darkly-lit bar is hidden underground. He gestures his head down the steps to Newt. “Wanna try it?”</p><p>Newt scrunches his face. “Looks like the kind of place we’d go when we were in uni.”</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>Newt raises his eyebrow until realization dawns over his face. “Oh. So they’ll never find us here. You’re full of tricks, aren’t you?”</p><p>Thomas shrugs and heads down the stairs. “Only one way to find out.”</p><p>The bar reeks of underage college students, beer already dried and sticky on the floor. The only lights come flashing, silver, disco lights on the dance floor. It’s already hot for June in Manhattan, but the hall is absolutely stifling. Thomas takes off his blazer, stretching out his back muscles as he does. His white tee-shirt is already clinging to his body.</p><p>Thomas turns to Newt, ready to ask if he wants to leave and find a less sweatier place, but he’s not expecting to find Newt’s eyes traveling up and down his torso. </p><p>“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”</p><p>Newt blinks, then smirks at Thomas, the kind of smirk that used to make him wary. He pulls out his phone and Thomas groans, realizing where this is going. He puts his arms up to try and shield his face, but Newt tries to pull his arm away, mercilessly snapping photos. “I’m only doing what you told me to! Will a thousand pictures last a thousand times longer?”</p><p>And in Thomas’s drunken state, this is fine. Everything is fine.</p><p>Although he’s pretending to push Newt away, his body wants him closer and closer. Even when Newt finally stops the assault and puts his phone back in his pocket, Thomas doesn’t pull away. Their bodies are touching, bumping into each other as they make their way to the counter for more to drink. They’re still pressed up against each other when they lock eyes and clink their glasses together, staring each other down as they drink.</p><p>The corner of Thomas’s lips curl into a smile. This is fine.</p><p>“Do you want to dance with me?” Newt shouts over the music.</p><p>Thomas can’t hear him. He sees Newt’s lips moving and registers that he’s probably saying something important, but the world is spinning around him mercilessly, colors blinding his eyes into near oblivion. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I said,” Newt shouts, but leans in closer so that his breath is hot on the skin of Thomas’s neck, “do you feel like dancing?”</p><p>Thomas looks over his shoulder to the dance, his head getting heavier and heavier. If he finishes the glass in his hand, he’s surely going to blackout, but in his drunken state, none of that actually matters. He just sees blobs of color and movement on the dance floor jumping up and down and decides he wants to do that too.</p><p>So he tips his head back and finishes the rest of his drink, before grabbing Newt’s hand and pulling him out onto the dance floor. Soon enough they’re just two blurry figures in a sea of sweaty blobs, jumping up and down and calling it dancing. </p><p>Soon enough, Newt’s arms are wrapped around Thomas’s waist and Thomas is running his fingers through Newt’s hair, just like they used to do whenever they went out to clubs. Soon enough, he closes his eyes and crashes their lips together.</p><p>The rest of his night blinks back like a series of snapshots. <em> Flash! </em>He and Newt are still making out, hands flying all over each other, outside pressed against the brick wall of the club. </p><p><em> Flash! </em>They’re in the back of a taxi, Newt nearly on top of Thomas’s lap, his tongue dancing, dancing, dancing in his mouth.</p><p><em> Flash! </em>They’re in Thomas’s hotel room. On Thomas’s bed, rolling around underneath the sheets. His clothes are scattered somewhere, maybe everywhere. Newt kisses down his neck, his hot breath leaving a trail on his skin.</p><p>And he closes his eyes one last time, in pure bliss, only opening them once again when the morning comes and he wakes up with the hangover from hell.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. i hope that it's you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You coming to my room?” Newt asks as he pushes the up button for the elevator.</p><p>Thomas puts his finger on Newt’s lip. “Don’t ask that. That ruins the magic.”</p><p>“The magic?”</p><p>Once the elevator doors shut, Thomas reaches for the collar of Newt’s shirt and pulls him into another searing kiss. With his eyes closed, the world is dark and nothing is off-limits. The fire he feels in his stomach is the same fire from years ago. Newt’s sensitive spots are still all the same; the crease between his collarbone and his neck, the small of his back, the side of his hip. In the dark, the four years that have passed since college disappear.</p><p>[the one where the morning after happens a couple of times, thomas sings jesse mccartney, teresa and minho get married(!!), and thomas comes to a startling realization]</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>not to be overdramatic as hell, but i spent an hour editing the first half of this chapter on this site for my computer to act up and CLOSE THE TAB unprompted before i got to save anything</p><p>which made me realize ALL OF THE EDITING I HAD DONE, while sick and tired, THAT MADE THE CHAPTER LESS SHITTY was forever gone and erased and i would have to do it. all. over. again.</p><p>i'm really not a person that cries easily, like it takes a LOT to make me cry because i'm The Worst, but this .... this was pretty damn close</p><p>so in short the world is a deep dark endless hole of suffering and no one, especially me, is ever meant to be happy</p><p>(on a less overdramatic note and original beginning chapter note, here's the second chapter! i based these chapters off of moody, dark pop songs that i liked: 1st chapter being "enchanted" (adam young's version) and this chapter being "out of touch" by dove cameron. please enjoy!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sunlight floods the hotel room with bright rays and uncomfortable heat, causing the hair on Thomas’s skin to prickle. His head pounds and pounds, like the beat of a drum, and his throat is drier than the Sahara desert. His entire body aches – he knows that this is what happens after drinking, that his body can’t handle alcohol the way it used to when he was 21 or 22, yet he <em> still </em> continues to put himself through this.</p><p>As he slowly comes back into consciousness, he realizes he’s naked, the satin sheets of the hotel bed cool against his bare body. And he realizes he’s not alone.</p><p>He looks over, with one eye slightly cracked, to the body next to him. An older version of Peter Pan, dusty blond hair and pale skin, sleeping beside him. His mouth slightly ajar as he snores.</p><p>“Fuck,” Thomas whispers softly, but in his head he’s screaming at the top of his lungs. It sends another round of painful thuds pounding through his head. </p><p>He tries to get out of bed before Newt wakes up. The memories from last night come back hazy – they were dancing together in a crowded bar, pressed up against each other at one point, before they were kissing. And then they were kissing against the brick wall of the club, then in the back of a taxi, then in their hotel room where they were ripping each other’s clothes off like horny rabbits. </p><p>His clothes are strewn everywhere. Somehow his boxers ended up on the nightstand, while one of his socks is on a <em> lamp </em>. It feels like a millennia passes by before he finds the other sock on the bathroom sink. He closes the door to the bathroom behind him, retching into the cold porcelain. He swears in that moment that he will never drink again, so long as he never has to endure the burning pain of alcohol rising up his stomach and out of his throat after this.</p><p>When he comes back out after rinsing his mouth with mouthwash and tap water, Newt’s started to wake up and rub his eyes. He looks over to Thomas, a light pink flush in his pale cheeks. “Hi.”</p><p>Thomas isn’t sure what the proper etiquette is here. He’s aware that in certain situations, sometimes you drunkenly bang your ex and pretend it never happened and move on with your lives. He’s never been one to drunk text an ex, but he’s never had an ex quite like Newt. </p><p>He scratches the back of his head and sighs, suddenly hyper-aware that he’s only in his boxers. “Hey.”</p><p>Newt tries to sit up, but groans. “I keep forgetting we’re getting older. I can’t handle hangovers like I used to.”</p><p>Once upon a time, Thomas might’ve suggested they go downstairs to the hotel lobby and get some coffee and painkillers. Or maybe order up a luxurious breakfast from room service and put it on their credit cards to worry about later. But he’s not sure <em> what </em> he’s supposed to be doing here. </p><p>There are about four pairs of pants on top of Newt’s suitcase. One of them might be his but he’s not sure if rummaging through Newt’s stuff looking for his pants would be considered invasive. He hates the uncertainty almost as much as he hates the pounding in his head. </p><p>“Me either,” Thomas says, clearing his dry and scratchy throat.</p><p>Newt’s eyes flicker towards him, but he doesn’t say anything. It oddly comforts Thomas that neither of them know exactly what to do or say, even though he wishes Newt had pretended to stay asleep until he had left so they could pretend that this never happened.</p><p>He doesn’t even know what happened. He knows that he was drunk and he might have confused lust with feelings but he doesn’t know why Newt reciprocated any of that. Newt had just gotten out of a relationship, last he heard. </p><p>A serious relationship with someone named <em> Arthur </em>.</p><p>“You okay?” Newt asks out of the blue, and it’s then that Thomas realizes he’s been scowling.</p><p>“Oh. Uh, yeah, sorry.”</p><p>Newt frowns. That signature frown where his eyebrows scrunch together and his lips purse into a pout. Where he <em> really </em>looks like Peter Pan. “Why are you sorry?”</p><p>Thomas tries to swallow, but his throat is so dry that everything just hurts more than usual. “About last night? I shouldn’t have done this.”</p><p>“Thomas,” Newt starts to sigh but Thomas cuts him off, shaking his head.</p><p>“Look, we should pretend this didn’t happen. Right?”</p><p>Newt blinks, pressing his fingers to his forehead. He’s sitting up now, his naked chest gleaming in the sunlight. “Let’s take this one minute at a time, can we?”</p><p>“Yeah, we pretend it never happened,” Thomas continues. He pushes back any feelings of uncomfortability to reach for the pants on top of Newt’s suitcase, talking as he tries to find which pair are his. “We continue with the rest of the day and the wedding tomorrow and we just be civil. We need to be civil.”</p><p>“You said that last night,” Newt reminds him.</p><p>“Well, maybe we took things a little <em> too </em> civilly last night.” Thomas says with his back still turned to Newt. His shirt <em> has </em> to be around here somewhere. “We should pretend it never happened and act normally around each other.”</p><p>“Normally? This is the first time I’ve seen you in four years,” Newt says, with a light, awkward chuckle.</p><p>Thomas just frowns, still looking for his shirt. “Yeah, I suppose there was a reason for that.”</p><p>“Sorry, I was just trying to make the mood a little bit lighter.” Newt sighs. He stands up, grimacing as he leans down and picks up dark fabric from underneath the bed. “Too soon?”</p><p>Thomas clears his throat and takes his shirt back. “I don’t know. I mean, we did just…you know.”</p><p>“I thought we weren’t acknowledging it?”</p><p>Thomas rolls his eyes, trying to hold back his smile. He still hasn’t put his shirt back on, even though there’s no justifiable reason why he hasn’t yet. “We’re not.”</p><p>“Okay,” Newt says in acquiescence. He takes a careful step towards Thomas. “But if we were –”</p><p>“We’re not.”</p><p>“You don’t have to be sorry.”</p><p>Thomas’s fiddles with his shirt between his hands. He ought to put it on, he thinks in the back of his mind, but it’s not lost on him that Newt’s not wearing any clothes but boxers either. “Okay.”</p><p>“I mean it.” And now the blond’s less sure of himself, clearing his throat roughly and looking down at the white carpet beneath their bare feet. But he still takes another cautious step towards Thomas. “If anything. I’m pretty sure I started things.”</p><p>Thomas remembers next to nothing of last night, on who kissed whom and why, but there’s a lot to unpack in Newt’s statement that they don’t really have time for. He’s certainly not apologizing for kissing Thomas so soon after getting out of a serious relationship with someone named <em> Arthur </em>. </p><p>And maybe, <em> just </em> maybe, Thomas is doing that thing again where he lets lust take over his mind and that’s why he hasn’t put his shirt back on.</p><p>“Okay,” seems to be the only intelligible thing he can muster.</p><p>Newt’s within his personal space now and there seems to be an unspoken invitation. Thoms <em> should </em> put his shirt back on and go up to his own hotel room, to start getting ready for the day.</p><p>But instead, he drops his shirt to the floor and doesn’t let himself overthink or question the implications and consequences of his actions: he reaches his arms around Newt’s neck and kisses him.</p><p>They fall back dramatically onto the sun-lit bed and when Thomas pulls apart, it’s like Newt’s bathed in the light of heaven. His golden hair, his golden face, his golden body – everything about him in this moment is warm and inviting, Thomas wants to take a picture of him and keep it forever. But he just leans back down and kisses him again until his brain goes fuzzy.</p><p>Newt’s warm hand travels down his body, leaving behind a trail of fire on his skin. Soon he’s unbuttoning Thomas’s pants that he <em> just </em> put on, with every intention of trying to leave Newt’s hotel room, and into his boxers.</p><p>Thomas breaks apart again, sighing contentedly. “Oh.”</p><p>He doesn’t see Newt smirking underneath him, he just sees a galaxy of stars spinning around his eyes. Newt moves his hand up and down, building a perfect rhythm until Thomas lets go and falls on the mattress next to him, breathing heavily.</p><p>Thomas is aware of the silence enveloping the room and how he’s barely able to catch his own breath, struggling to figure out <em> something </em> to say. <em> Thanks for the hand job </em> sounds too crass. <em> That was absolutely amazing </em> sounds like he might be trying to get back together with Newt. <em> You’re good at that </em> just sounds lame and like something someone would say to their one-night stand partner.</p><p>In the end, he sits up, cringing in his ruined underwear and buttons his pants back up. “I should go.”</p><p>“Already?” Newt stumbles over his words, sitting up beside him.</p><p>The clock on the nightstand next to them reads 9:45 in the morning and Teresa’s bridesmaids brunch starts in a little over an hour. He really should go.</p><p>“You could, um, well, you could come back later, if you wanted,” Newt continues stammering. “Here, like to the room, or something. We should probably talk.”</p><p>Thomas tugs his shirt over his head and stands up. “I thought we weren’t talking about it.”</p><p>“I mean about tomorrow. You and I are gonna have to walk down that aisle before them, aren’t we?”</p><p>Thomas had nearly forgotten about the tradition of the ‘Man’-of-Honor and Best Man walking down the aisle together, right before the bride and groom. It occurred to him way back when Teresa had approached him about taking on the Man of Honor role that this might happen, but he always shelved the thought in the back of his mind.</p><p>“We’ll just be civil,” Thomas says, trying to sound as passive as he can. His mother was going to be there in the Church, along with Newt’s parents. Perhaps even sitting in the same pew. That definitely hadn’t crossed his mind as much as it should’ve.</p><p>“But not too civil?” Newt responds cheekily, with that same light and awkward chuckle.</p><p>Thomas’s smile feels more forced the more he thinks about the inevitable collision of their families tomorrow evening, the pounding in his head becoming more and more prominent. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”</p><p>Newt tilts his head to the side. “Are you okay, Thomas?”</p><p>“Yes, perfectly fine, I should go,” Thomas says and turns on his heel towards the door. “Good seeing you. Uh, see you later.”</p><p>“Okay. Bye?”</p><p>Thomas is out the door before Newt’s managed to finish his sentence. He rushes towards the elevator, only stopping to breathe once the doors had closed in front of him. “Fuck.”</p><p>He had bridesmaid duties lined up for the rest of the day before the rehearsal dinner, which would be the first time he’d seen his mother since Easter. He hadn’t thought about having to tell her about Newt being Minho’s Best Man or how she might react. Logically, he knows that she’ll be polite and kind, as she normally is, but she’s still his <em> mother </em>.</p><p>And perhaps to this day, still blamed Newt for Thomas’s “drinking problem.”</p><p> </p><p>I.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong with you?” Harriet asks him later, when they’re sitting across from each other in a cafe, splitting the list of vendors coming for tomorrow.</p><p>Thomas has just gotten off the phone with the florist, after confirming three times with the company that they’ll send the bouquets at least two hours in advance. The sales representative was nothing but patient with him, even though Thomas begins to think <em> he’s </em> feeling pre-wedding jitters. </p><p>He takes another sip of his second mimosa. “When you and Newt broke up, was it awkward around your families?”</p><p>Harriet frowns. “What?”</p><p>“When you two broke up, was it –”</p><p>“Yes, Thomas, I heard you, I was just taken aback,” Harriet interrupts. “Why are you asking? Are you nervous about tomorrow?”</p><p><em> Yes </em>. </p><p>Thomas shrugs. “No, I’m just … curious about how your families interacted with each other after.”</p><p>“Our moms were friends first, remember? They all went to college together and stayed friends. So, when Newt and I were together for all of what, two months? They were happy, sure. But it wasn’t like they <em> expected </em> us to end up together or anything, so they weren’t upset.”</p><p>Thomas has a feeling that Harriet’s trying to make him feel better, but her words have the opposite effect. “Oh. Okay.”</p><p>“Anyways, it’s not gonna be a big deal. All of the attention is gonna be on Minho and Teresa, so you’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Right, right.” Thomas shakes his head and focuses on his list. “Tomorrow’s all about them and that’s all that matters. She looks really beautiful in her dress.”</p><p>“Teresa? Of course she does.”</p><p>Thomas takes another sip of his mimosa, preparing himself to check in with the band and make sure they were en route to New York. He’s started to dial the number when Harriet starts chuckling.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I just realized you dated my ex.”</p><p>Thomas opens his mouth to protest, when he realizes he has nothing to protest. He frowns. “Fuck, I never even talked to you about that, did I? Did … did you ever hate me for that?”</p><p>“What?” Harriet bursts out laughing. “Of course not. I thought you guys were good for each other.”</p><p>Thomas laughs drily as he finishes dialing the number of the band manager. “Yeah, real good for each other, huh?”</p><p>Harriet sighs and goes back to her own list. His call with the band manager lasts all of three minutes, all of which neither of them wants to be on the phone with each other. Yes, the band is en route. Yes, the band will be there bright and early. Yes, the band will be there.</p><p>Once he’s done with his call, they order another round of mimosas to get through the next round of people Teresa didn’t feel calling herself. </p><p>“I can’t believe you guys just went back to sleep after being at the club for twenty minutes last night,” Harriet shakes her head. “I’m sorry if we made you that uncomfortable that sometimes we get together without you guys.”</p><p>Thomas is too preoccupied with keeping up the pretenses of his lie to think too much about her second comment. “What were we supposed to do, hang out with each other?”</p><p>Harriet raises her eyebrow. “One day, maybe? Do you think you guys could be close again?”</p><p>Thomas reaches for his mimosa flute, trying to push down the thoughts of Newt’s lip on his neck. “I don’t know.”</p><p>His voice sounds squeaky, even to <em> his </em> ears. But Harriet thankfully doesn’t even notice.</p><p>“Besides, I like you two together so much more than Arthur.”</p><p>Thomas frowns. “You’ve met him?”</p><p>“Yeah, like once or twice. Arthur had family up in Toronto and Newt brought him over for Thanksgiving, that one time my parents hosted it.”</p><p>“He brought him to Thanksgiving?” Thomas asks. He pretends his voice doesn’t still sound squeaky.</p><p>“Well, yeah, I mean,” Harriet’s voice trails off. She clears her throat uncomfortably. “It wasn’t like… it was weird, though. He wasn’t you, you know? The vibe felt off.”</p><p>Thomas knows she meant that to reassure him, but he can’t help but feel even more like he’s trying to fit himself in a puzzle he doesn’t belong in anymore. It leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, the idea of all his former friends gathering around for Thanksgiving, drinking and laughing without him. With <em> Arthur. </em></p><p>Because if Harriet’s parents invited Newt’s family, and if Newt’s family was there, they invited Minho’s family, and if Minho’s family was there, they invited Teresa – and there <em> was </em> one Thanksgiving a couple years ago where she didn’t spend it with her parents and Thomas’s family. At the time, he’d been told it was because of ‘work.’</p><p>Thomas sees their waitress making her way over and flags her down with a smile. “Can I have another mimosa, please?”</p><p>“Isn’t that like your fourth?” Harriet asks. </p><p>He’d never thought he’d be grateful for having fallen out of touch with Harriet, but he’s only <em> slightly </em> grateful she doesn’t know about the Dark Times after The Break-Up. All Thomas would do was drink himself into a coma and call his loved ones, complaining about how unfair his life was and how much he hated his job. Even when he was seeing his therapist, he would lie about his alcohol intake until The Night he woke up sprawled out on some sidewalk in downtown DC, vomit all over his pants and a new formed spider bite on his thumb the next morning.</p><p>He never told anyone about that night – when he had finally moved out of the apartment he had shared with Newt only a year prior, and found a book under the couch in the living room that he had given to Newt for his birthday. They’d gotten into a fight over it when Thomas found out that Newt had lost it and felt that it meant Newt didn’t care about him. </p><p>The night he found it, he went out to Newt’s favorite bar in Capitol Heights and drank so much whiskey he blacked out within an hour. When he woke up later that night, close to 2 or 3am, he looked deeply at the state he was in and kind of began to understand why someone might fall out of love with him. He hauled himself off and called a taxi back to his apartment, threw out his clothes with vomit all over them, and showered, promising that in the morning he was going to pack the rest of his things and leave all of the liquor behind. </p><p>Now, Thomas watches the waitress bring over his fourth mimosa, which has already started to make him feel light and giddy instead of the bundle of panicked nerves he’d been feeling ever since the morning started. </p><p>“Yeah,” he says with a sigh, pushing it towards her. “You want it?”</p><p> </p><p>II.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, this is just beautiful, isn’t it?” Thomas’s mother, Claire, asks as they walk into the reception hall for the rehearsal dinner. She had come dressed in light blue to match the theme of the wedding, ‘gently’ suggesting that her husband, Officer Tommy, wear a similarly-colored tie.</p><p>They looked good together, Thomas thought, walking alongside them towards their table. It’d been almost two decades since he’d had two parents by his side and he couldn’t be happier that they’re all here together at Teresa’s wedding.</p><p>The bride-to-be was standing in the center of the room with her fiancé, smiling at all of their family friends. Teresa looks beautiful there, in a deep blue dress with a slit down her legs, her cheeks flush from the warmth or from sheer happiness. Minho stands next to her, elegantly dressed in a tuxedo also with a matching blue tie. It was ridiculous how good the two of them looked together.</p><p>Teresa smiles wider as Thomas and his family approach, reaching her arms out to hug him. “Thomas!”</p><p>As he comes closer to her, she grips his shoulders and whispers, “Where the hell did you go last night? We were worried!”</p><p>“We just went back here,” Thomas says, smiling through his teeth. “No big deal.”</p><p>“Yes, it was a big deal! You could’ve said <em> something </em>!” Teresa hisses, still smiling as well. </p><p>“Minho!” Thomas greets his other friend, trying to avoid the interrogation as his parents go to hug and congratulate Teresa. “How you doing, bud?”</p><p>“Where the hell did you two go last night?” Minho hisses in his ear. “We were worried sick!”</p><p>Thomas pulls away with a smile, clapping Minho on the back. “Yeah, this whole reception is so nice. I couldn’t have pictured a better ceremony for you two.”</p><p>“Oh, just wait until you see tomorrow’s ceremony!” Minho laughs back with him, but Thomas can see the warning look in his friends’ eyes. </p><p>He heads towards his family’s designated table, before Teresa or Minho can say anything else, not even waiting to make sure his mother or Officer Tommy have followed behind him. He’s tired already and the weekend isn’t even half-over. Sure, he’s excited to see his best friends get married. For a long time, he’d been excited to see Teresa and Minho tie the knot. </p><p>But everything’s different now that he and Newt have broken up. It’s different because Newt’s sitting across the room with his own family, probably ignoring Thomas the way he’s ignoring Newt. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have been like this. They would have been side by side, arm in arm, instead of pointedly avoiding each other.</p><p>Thomas sits down at the table designated for his family, grateful that Newt’s parents haven’t seemed to notice him yet.</p><p>His mother and Officer Tommy finally join him, along with Teresa’s aunt and uncle from Brazil. Tìa Marcia and Tìo Jose are Teresa’s favorite in-laws and the only adults who would slip the two nips of wine underneath the table when the two of them were underage. Their little terrors, Sofia and Carlo, run around the reception hall wreaking as much havoc as they can, while looking adorable.</p><p>“Doesn’t everything look nice?” His mother asks once she’s sat down.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess.”</p><p>“I knew he was going to be here, yet I somehow thought he wouldn’t be. You know he tried to say hello to me earlier?”</p><p>Thomas frowns. “Who are you talking about?”</p><p>Claire nods her head in Newt’s direction, who’s thankfully in some heated debate with his sister, too preoccupied to notice Thomas and his mother gawking at him. </p><p>“What did you say?”</p><p>“You know me. I was polite and I just said hello, but that I had to be on my way,” Claire says casually, pouring herself a generous glass of champagne from the bottle on the center of the table. “I was surprised he’d even have the audacity to come up to me.”</p><p>Thomas is surprised Newt would even have the balls to approach his mother after four years – especially after <em> this morning </em>. He thinks back to Newt sprawled out on the bed, golden sunlight covering his naked body, and clears his throat. </p><p>No. He has <em> no </em>idea why Newt would do such a thing.</p><p>“Maybe he just wanted to make amends,” Officer Tommy, ever the peace-maker suggests. He has his own glass of champagne, filled to the brim, in front of him as if he knows how long the night’s going to be.</p><p>“Honestly, I thought his mother would be the one to come up to me,” Claire confesses. “But she hasn’t even said anything. Not even so much a spare glance at me. All the better, I wouldn’t even know what to say either.”</p><p>“Tonight is for the bride and groom. All other matters don’t matter tonight,” Thomas says pointedly, looking at his mother as he raises his glass. </p><p>Claire rolls her eyes and lifts her glass to clink against his and her husband’s. “As if I would ever make a scene at the closest thing I’ve ever had to a daughter’s rehearsal dinner. Honestly, Thomas, it’s like you don’t even know me.”</p><p>Thomas finds himself laughing at his mother’s lame joke, the way he’s done his entire life, his eyes traveling to the other side of the room, where Newt just happens to be looking back at him. The two of them are raising their glass to their lips at the same time, which makes Thomas blush like a little girl. </p><p>“I saw that,” his mother says, a cautious tone despite the happy smile on her face, clapping with the rest of the room as Teresa and Minho clasp hands and sit down at their own table. </p><p>“There was nothing to see,” Thomas says, forcing the same smile on his face.</p><p>Minho’s father stands up to welcome Teresa and her parents into his family, clinking his champagne flute with his spoon. He’s a nice, stern man, whom Thomas had met a few times back in college when he’d come to check in on Minho and make sure the boys weren’t desecrating the apartment. He was much warmer than Minho gave him credit for, offering to take them out to dinner at some steakhouse in the center of town, at a time when their diets consisted of pizza and beer.</p><p>His mother is a small woman, who always wore sharp suits and beautiful jewelry. Tonight was no exception; her suit was navy blue to match Teresa’s favorite color, and she had bright white pearls and sapphire studs in her ears. She fanned herself with a blue, floral-patterned paper fan elegantly, beaming at Teresa and Minho.</p><p>It was all a lovely affair, Thomas thought, when the food was brought out. Full course meals were served: steak and potatoes for meat-lovers, salads and soups for vegetarians and vegans. And the best champagne Thomas had ever tasted in his entire life. Teresa and Minho had been working steady jobs on Wall Street for the past few years and were proudly paying for the entire wedding, even though both of their parents had almost begged them to let them chip in for <em> something </em>. </p><p>He’s in the middle of suffering through one of Tìo Jose’s long-winded jokes about taxes, when Sonya Newton pops up from behind him.</p><p>“Thomas, I’m heading to the loo. Care to tag along?”</p><p>Tìo Jose stares at her in confusion, pausing his story, as do his parents and the rest of Teresa’s extended family.</p><p>Thomas swallows down the rest of his steak with a bit of difficulty. “Um. I can, uh, well I guess I’ll head that way.” </p><p>He stands up, following Sonya towards the restrooms outside of the reception hell. “What the hell? You nearly gave Tìa Marcia a heart attack.”</p><p>“Oh relax. No one actually thinks you’re coming <em> in </em>the loo with me,” Sonya says dismissively. She even walks right by the bathrooms and towards the patio, stepping outside and making for the lawn chairs. </p><p>Thomas follows her with the slightest trepidation. “So why did we come out here?”</p><p>“What happened last night?” Sonya asks, pulling a cigarette out of her purse. The silver clutch matches her thin silvery summer dress, shiny against her pale skin.</p><p>She hands him one, reminiscent of their London winter together sharing a small flat in Camden and smoking at night outside of the balcony they weren’t supposed to be on. </p><p>He stares at the cigarette, but doesn’t take it. His already suspicious mother’s inside, with the nose of a fox. “We got tired early.”</p><p>“Yeah, you say that but Thomas, I know you and you’re a terrible liar.” Sonya takes a drag and Thomas tries not to inhale the smoke through his nostrils. “Your ears get all pink and you can’t look me in the eye.”</p><p>He makes a pointed effort to look her in the eyes. “Why would I lie to you Sonya?”</p><p>“That’s what I’ve been wondering. Newt, I get it. He never really told me things growing up, but you and I are close, Thomas. After all, we’ve been through the most together.”</p><p>Thomas sighs, looking back towards the courtyard full of screaming children playing in the sunset, mainly to face away from her smoke. He doesn’t bother to correct her statement, considering he and Newt were in an actual three-year relationship. “What does it matter? We got tired, we went back to our hotel rooms, and we went to sleep. Why does everyone think something happened?”</p><p>Sonya scrutinizes him for a few moments longer and Thomas worries he’s still blushing from earlier, at the insinuation the two of them were going to the <em> loo </em> together. Maybe he and Newt really weren’t as subtle as they’d hoped to be.</p><p>This time Sonya sighs, with a dry laugh as she takes another drag. “Sorry. Maybe we’re all just … projecting what we want onto you two.”</p><p>“And what’s that? For everything to be normal again?” Thomas hears the bitterness seeping into his voice. He shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to –”</p><p>“I know you do, too. More than all of us, maybe,” she interrupts him softly. “And I’m the one who’s sorry for telling you what I did last night. It’s not your fault, Thomas.”</p><p>“It’s not Newt’s either,” Thomas says, turning back to look at her. It almost unsettles him how much the two look alike, especially in the fading sunlight. </p><p>“I know. He felt awful, I promise you, about the whole thing. It was just a mess, all over.”</p><p>Thomas doesn’t quite know what to say to that. He supposes they should return to the rehearsal dinner before people really start to think they’re having bathroom sex, or something scandalous to that nature.</p><p>He’s just about to stand up and suggest they head back when Sonya says, “If it helps, we’re all thinking of taking a trip maybe. Sometime next month.”</p><p>“Who’s we?” </p><p>“Me, Harriet, Teresa, and Minho. We talked about it last night, but you know we couldn’t get in touch with you or anything.” Sonya rolls her eyes. She stamps out her cigarette on the ground next to her. “Maybe something small for 4th July weekend?”</p><p>Thomas doesn’t have plans for that weekend. Last year, he stayed home to drink beer and watch the fireworks from his rooftop since he hadn’t taken any of his coworkers up on their invites to go to their summer homes. He figured he would do the same for this year, not really caring for holidays that didn’t require him to visit family. </p><p>He’s about to say that he’ll consider it when Newt pops his head onto the patio, startling both Thomas and Sonya. “There you two are. They’re bringing a cake out pretty soon and Minho and Teresa want us all to be there. What are you doing out here?”</p><p>“Bathroom,” Thomas says nonsensically, jumping up out of his chair. “See you inside.”</p><p>He rushes away from the patio, overhearing Newt ask, “Hey. Are you smoking again?” He’s glad to be away from <em> that </em> argument as he heads back inside the reception hall and towards the bride and groom-to-be’s table. Teresa spots him coming and waves him over, next to Harriet.</p><p>“There you are! The cake’s delicious, I got to try some this morning,” she brags. “It’s chocolate with blue frosting.”</p><p>“Wow, is that like your favorite color or something?” Thomas quips.</p><p>“Oh, shut up.”</p><p>Newt and Sonya join them moments later, acting civilly instead of biting each other’s heads off for once. Minho reaches for Teresa’s hand as the cake is brought out and the candles are lit. Thomas hasn’t been to enough rehearsal dinners among his friends to know what the proper protocol is here. It’s not like they’re supposed to start singing happy birthday to Teresa and Minho, whose birthdays fall in March and September respectively.</p><p>His eyes glance around all of his friends to see what they’re doing, but it’s only Newt who looks back at him with the same confusion poorly hidden on his face. He opens his mouth, drawing air as if he’s going to start bloody singing, and it makes Thomas chuckle softly. </p><p>But then he remembers they’re not the only two people in the room and that somewhere to his right, his mother is watching him with hawk-eyes, trying to pick up on something that isn’t there. He quietly clears his throat and looks back to the center of the table where everyone just seems to be applauding.</p><p>He claps politely and only smiles again when Teresa and Minho blow out the candles, unprompted. God, weddings were weird.</p><p>A live DJ started playing a collection of classic hits, all 60s and 70s singers crooning about their greatest loves, while the guests ate cake and mingled. Thomas stayed close to Brenda and Alby’s table, who had the greatest misfortune of being seated near the little kids. </p><p>“I feel like it’s supposed to be some kind of wink, wink, nudge, nudge,” Alby confides in Thomas, after the third kid comes up to the two of them and tries to get them to play. </p><p>“You guys are practically married,” Thomas reasons with a laugh. “Why not just say fuck it and start baby-making?”</p><p>“You’re the worst,” Brenda informs him with a mouth full of cake. “As <em> if </em>I would waste the past five years of working to become partner at the firm for some kids.”</p><p>Alby smiles at her endearingly. “Charming, isn’t she?”</p><p>“And what about <em> you </em>, Thomas?” Brenda points at him with her fork, cake crumbs flying all over the place. “When can we expect kids from you?”</p><p>Thomas frowns. “The fuck? I’m not even in a serious relationship.”</p><p>“Sure, but there aren’t plenty of attractive people here,” Alby points out. “So many young people, I didn’t expect that. There’s got to be someone here you find attractive.”</p><p>Thomas’s frown only deepens as he spears into his cake with his plastic fork. There <em> were </em> a lot more attractive, young people than Thomas was expecting but it’s also not as if he <em> was </em> expecting to hook up with any of them this weekend. That would be weird. Beyond ‘hooking up with his ex’ weird.</p><p>Then there was the matter of his ex, who was engaged in a drinking game with one of Minho’s cousins on the other side of the room. His ex who had recently gotten out of <em> another </em> serious relationship, one that lasted longer than theirs had. It was all too weird to think about or process fully. </p><p>Brenda clears her throat and Thomas realizes he’s been checked out of the conversation for too long. “No. Not here. I mean, back in DC –”</p><p>“Oh, you have someone back in DC?” Brenda says far too quickly. Thomas realizes she knew exactly where his attention had been.</p><p>He turns his body to face her and Alby, giving them his full attention. “No, but … if I wanted to, I know plenty of people. So, who knows. Right?”</p><p>“Who knows. Cheers to that.” Alby raises his glass to toast.</p><p>Later on, the older adults start dwindling out of the reception hall, claiming fatigue. The sun had completely set outside but the reception hall was booked until midnight, so the younger adults stayed around to keep dancing as the DJ switched the playlists up.</p><p>Thomas’s parents stopped to tell him goodnight before leaving, Claire already having taken off her heels. “Remember now, you should probably shave in the morning.”</p><p>“Yes, mother,” Thomas groans, pushing away her hands as she points at his chin.</p><p>“And get some sleep, or you can borrow that eye cream from Tommy to rub under your eyes in the morning. Have you been getting enough sleep?”</p><p>“Yes, mom,” Thomas groans again with exasperation as Officer Tommy laughs. “I’m 27 now, I can take care of myself.”</p><p>Claire sighs, her eyes darting behind Thomas. On the dance floor, Newt was bouncing all over with Sonya and Harriet, completely off-beat to the music thumping through the speakers now.</p><p>“Mom,” Thomas warns.</p><p>“I know you can,” Claire says, kissing his cheek. “It’s just my duty to worry, you know? I love you.”</p><p>“Love you too.”</p><p>He claps Officer Tommy on the back and waves goodnight to them as they exit, having half a mind to leave himself. But he knows he’s supposed to stay for Teresa and Minho’s sake, so he grabs the nearest full glass of champagne on the table closest to him and downs it in one gulp.</p><p>He’s just grateful Newt’s parents have already left, having long ago retired to their hotel rooms, without running into Thomas once. He feels silly for having been so worried about that earlier, now the threat of having to face them is over. </p><p>He makes his way to the dance floor, after downing at least two more glasses, where his friends are dancing.</p><p>“I wish there was more cake,” Harriet complains. “I only got a slice before my mother reminded me I would be wearing a bridesmaids dress tomorrow.”</p><p>“You’ll look fine,” Sonya yells, even though there’s no reason to yell. “I bet you there’s another slice somewhere around.”</p><p>“You think so?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I saw one, actually, near where I was sitting.”</p><p>“Really? Where?”</p><p>“This way.”</p><p>Sonya reaches for her hand and pulls her away from the dance floor, in search of the ‘missing slice of cake.’</p><p>Newt raises his eyebrow, as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Perfect timing, huh?”</p><p>“I am known for bringing the party with me wherever I go.”</p><p>“Oh for sure. Like the time senior year when we went to that rager at uh, what’s his name?”</p><p>“Gally?”</p><p>“No, not him. The other bloke. Zart?”</p><p>“Oh! Zart’s Columbus Day party.”</p><p>“Yeah, when you got there you were so drunk, you tried to swing from the chandelier?”</p><p>Thomas groans into his hands as Newt laughs. “Oh my God, he <em> hated </em> me. Even when I offered to pay him back!”</p><p>“It did get the party shut down fairly quickly.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.” Thomas rolls his eyes. He looks around the dance floor for more champagne, or any kind of alcohol. “Have you seen Minho or Teresa?”</p><p>Newt shrugs. “Isn’t it customary for the bride and groom to hook up during their wedding?”</p><p>Thomas shudders at the thought. “It’s not the actual wedding, though.”</p><p>“It’s all the same in the end. What even is the point of a rehearsal dinner?”</p><p>This time, Thomas shrugs. “I dunno. It didn’t seem like we rehearsed much. We do have an actual rehearsal in the morning.”</p><p>“Fuck, don’t remind me. It’s literally just us walking down the aisle, right?”</p><p>Thomas raises his eyebrow. “Just us?”</p><p>Newt frowns until the double meaning of his words catch up to him. “Poor choice of words. I just don’t see why we need to rehearse walking down an aisle.”</p><p>“It’s actually very hard, you know. We have to do it in step. If you’re a step ahead of me, everyone will be talking about it for the rest of our lives.”</p><p>“I guess we better get it right.”</p><p>Thomas lets this double meaning pass this time, instead offering a simple smile. He wishes he had another drink right now.</p><p>Minho comes to save the day, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders, his Axe cologne and whiskey breath wafting into their noses. “My boys! Isn’t this nice?”</p><p>Thomas also wishes people would stop drawing attention to the fact that they were actually being civil around each other, because it disrupted the process of things going back to normal by insinuating there was a period of abnormality to have to recover from.</p><p>“We’re thinking of blowing this joint and heading to this karaoke bar in Koreatown that T likes. Down for it?”</p><p>Thomas shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m getting kind of tired.”</p><p>“When did you turn into a grandfather? It’s my wedding weekend, you <em> have </em> to come out.”</p><p>Newt makes a <em> tsk, tsk </em> sound. “I hate it when he’s right. Who else is coming?”</p><p>“I’m always right and everyone,” Minho says, helpfully clearing things up as he waves his arms around the room. “All the cousins, all of our friends.”</p><p>“That’s a lot of people,” Newt remarks.</p><p>“Yeah,” Minho muses, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m surprised that this many people showed up, honestly.”</p><p>Thomas scoffs, drawing Newt and Minho’s attention to him. “I mean, of course they came. They all love you and T.”</p><p>“Well, for a little while we weren’t even sure <em> you’d </em> come,” Minho confesses, maybe more buzzed than either he or Thomas originally thought. “But of course you did. You’re a good friend, kid.”</p><p>He claps Thomas on the back, making his way back over to Teresa in the middle of the dance floor. On his way over, he announces to everyone in the vicinity that they’re going to be heading to a karaoke bar in a little bit.</p><p>“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like <em> that </em>,” Newt tries to reassure him.</p><p>But Thomas thinks that Minho did. He’d only admit this to himself, but if it hadn’t been for Teresa, if it had been Minho marrying anyone else – even Sonya Newton, whom Thomas had once thought Minho harbored feelings for – Thomas isn’t even sure he would’ve come.</p><p> </p><p>III.</p><p> </p><p>Thomas checks his phone at two in the morning, beginning to regret his decision to accompany his friends to the karaoke bar. He really <em> is </em> tired, and his body can’t handle partying the way he used to. He’s had at least four more drinks since they left the hotel and he’s close to falling asleep. </p><p>He’s surprised to hear that Minho and Teresa belting out their version of <em> High School Musical </em>while jumping up and down on the stage in the center of the room, neon chrome lights flashing around them, actually sounds good. They’re the only ones who seem to have enough energy to bring the party to the karaoke stage. Thomas had long ago put his hat on the table and sat down for the night, trying not to make his yawns noticeable. </p><p>Harriet and Sonya were dancing with a group of cute guys in the other corner of the room. They’d tried to get Thomas to dance with him, but once his feet had started to hurt, he’d gotten reprimanded by Sonya.</p><p>She pointed to her stiletto boots. “You think <em> your </em> feet hurt?”</p><p>He forced a weak smile and continued to dance until one of the boys had gotten her attention, allowing Thomas an opening to sneak away from the group and sit down on a velvet bench.</p><p>His eyes are involuntarily closing when he feels the seat dip next to him, a warm presence suddenly by his side. “I know. Troy and Gabriella did it so much better, didn’t they?”</p><p>“You actually watched that movie?”</p><p>Newt shrugs next to him, smirking. “I have a sister. She bloody blasted the movies all throughout our childhood.”</p><p>Thomas chuckles. He really isn’t in any state to be this drunk twice in a row, on the same weekend. If he could have it his way, he’d be lying down, listening to old 70s music to help him close his eyes. </p><p>“Maybe we should do a song together.”</p><p>This actually wakes Thomas up. He straightens his posture and frowns. “What?”</p><p>“You know. Prove we’re civil?”</p><p>Thomas narrows his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”</p><p>“Making fun of you? No, Thomas, I would never.” Newt shakes his head, but his smirk says otherwise. “I’m just doing what you want.”</p><p>Thomas scoffs, slumping back down in his seat. “I don’t even know what I want.”</p><p>“We’re in our late twenties. Are we supposed to know what we want?”</p><p>Thomas shrugs. “Shouldn’t we have some idea, at least?”</p><p>“I want,” Newt’s voice trails off, as his eyes dart around the room. A familiar smirk falls upon his face. “Okay, I want you to take jello shots off of that girl.”</p><p>Thomas’s stomach lurches as he remembers one of Minho’s infamous Halloween parties and taking jello shots off of Harriet. “<em> Hard </em> pass.”</p><p>Newt’s eyes travel around the room again. “Off of Brenda?”</p><p>“I don’t hook up with all of my exes, you know.”</p><p>Newt even has the audacity to chuckle at that. “Besides, Alby might not like that very much.”</p><p>“What are you two talking about?” Teresa asks, suddenly plopping down right to the left of Thomas. Minho joins them, sitting on the other side of Newt. Thomas is embarrassed to admit he didn’t even realize they’d finished their song.</p><p>“The doom and gloom of being in our late twenties,” Thomas says quickly, before Newt can say otherwise. “We’re so fucking close to being thirty.”</p><p>Horror flashes over Minho’s face. “You think I’m gonna start to get wrinkles?”</p><p>“Why are you talking about that?” Teresa asks, ignoring her fiancé. Her pretty blue eyes are trained on Thomas, as if she doesn’t believe him.</p><p>He just frowns back at her. “Because what else is there to talk about?”</p><p>When she exchanges the briefest of glances with Minho, Thomas rolls his eyes and groans. He stands up, announcing as he walks away, “I’m getting another drink.”</p><p>He walks over to the bar, pushing through the crowd of young adults dancing under the neon lights, and orders another vodka soda.</p><p>He already knows Teresa’s right behind him, when she pops up on the stool next to him, leaning on the counter. “I don’t need an intervention.”</p><p>“It’s not an intervention!” She claims. “I just wanted to know what you were talking about.”</p><p>“We’re not a fucking zoo, Teresa,” Thomas tells her. “I know what you’re trying to do.”</p><p>“What am I trying to do?”</p><p>“You want us to be normal again, so we’ll be civil for your wedding, so everything goes perfectly. I <em> get </em>it. I’m not gonna ruin your special day.”</p><p>Teresa rolls her eyes, waving the bartender away when he tries to ask for her order. “Tom, I just want you to be okay. I don’t care about the wedding.”</p><p>Thomas looks at her in disbelief, bringing his drink up to his lips.</p><p>“Okay, obviously I care about the wedding, but that’s not the reason I was checking in on you!”</p><p>“I don’t need you to check in on me, I’m not twelve. You should be having fun with Minho.”</p><p>“I <em> am </em> having fun with Minho. Didn’t you hear our song?”</p><p>Thomas grins. “I tried not to.”</p><p>She punches him in the shoulder. “You’re just jealous I sound better than you.”</p><p>“You think you sound better than me?” Drunk Thomas is a dangerous Thomas – he grows an extra 20 pounds of unwarranted confidence. “I can sing way better than you!”</p><p>Which is how he finds himself on that same stage, belting a Jesse McCartney song that used to make all the girls in elementary school swoon. He thinks he sounds fantastic, maybe the next biggest popstar in the making, even if his friends told him months later that he actually sounded off-key.</p><p>Sonya and Harriet cackle at the sight of him, turning their attention away from the boys they had been flirting with and holding their phones up to record him. Minho and Teresa dance like madmen, trying to drum up hype for him amongst an extremely inebriated crowd. Even Newt’s watching him with amusement.</p><p> Once he’s finished his song, he stumbles off the stage, bowing all over the place. “You’re welcome for that. I forgot why I did that.”</p><p>“Because you thought you were better than <em> me </em>,” Teresa reminds him, her arm slung over Minho’s shoulder. “We now have proof that you are not.”</p><p>Sonya shrugs, looking at the videos on her phone. “I don’t know, Teresa, that was quite a show he put on.”</p><p>“You’re just saying that because you used to have a crush on him,” Harriet says. Sonya smacks her shoulder.</p><p>Thomas doesn’t even notice, so drunk and wrapped up in his own world. He’d begun talking to complete strangers, offering them his autograph. They stared at him like he’d grown three heads.</p><p>“You should take him back to the hotel,” Minho suggests to Newt, nudging him in the side.</p><p>Newt tears his attention away from Thomas, with reluctance. “What? Why me?”</p><p>“You know, you hate parties,” Minho explains. “And he’s really drunk.”</p><p>Newt narrows his eyes. “Minho, if this is about what we talked about earlier –”</p><p>“I think it’s a good idea,” Teresa cuts in. “Maybe before someone kills him?”</p><p>Newt looks back at Thomas, who had his arm wrapped around a pretty blonde girl while he spoke. The rather bulky guy, with his arms crossed, staring bloody murder at Thomas, must’ve been her boyfriend.</p><p>Newt rolls his eyes at all of his friends. “You guys are <em> not </em> subtle.”</p><p>“What?” Harriet protests. He’d think she was being serious, if she had been able to hold back that shit-eating grin.</p><p>Newt sighs, making his way over to Thomas. Before the bulky guy can sock Thomas in the eye, Newt steps in between them, smiling at the poor strangers. “Sorry, my mate here has had a <em> lot </em> to drink. We’re just gonna go now.”</p><p>Newt untangles Thomas from the blonde, letting Thomas’s arm fall around his shoulder instead. He pushes their way through the dark crowd, finally breathing once they’d stepped outside into the cool night air.</p><p>Thomas rubs at his eyes, frowning at the street before him. “Did we time travel?”</p><p>“How much did you have to drink?” Newt asks, before stepping off of the curb to hail a taxi. Even at nearly 4 in the morning, there was always a surplus of yellow taxis roaming the streets of Manhattan.</p><p>Thomas tries to think, but his thoughts form as a blur of swirly pastel colors. “Blue?”</p><p>“Oh you’re <em> drunk </em>.” Newt laughs, mainly to himself, as a taxi pulls up to their curb. He holds open the door for Thomas, gesturing for him to get in. “Are you coming?”</p><p>A smirk starts to form on Thomas’s lips. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Are you trying to seduce me?”</p><p>Newt lets his head fall back, a loose laugh escaping his lips. “Jesus, Thomas. In the back of a taxi?”</p><p>Thomas shrugs, hopping in the backseat. “Haven’t we already hooked up in the back of a taxi?”</p><p>“We’ve hooked up in the back of taxis <em> many </em> times,” Newt says as he gets in after him. The driver gives him a warning look through the rearview mirror.</p><p>Even so, Thomas dares to put his hand on Newt’s thigh, sitting in the middle seat instead of by the other window. “You were the horny one. Remember Punta Cana?”</p><p>“Remember San Juan<em> ? </em>”</p><p>Thomas’s hand slides further up Newt’s thigh, so that he’s practically on top of his ex’s lap than respecting his personal space. “Remember Miami?”</p><p>Newt’s not quite as drunk as Thomas is, but he’s never been one to resist an attractive boy sitting on his lap so he takes the bait. He kisses Thomas, his tongue dancing into his mouth. One of his hands grips Thomas’s hair, while the other goes towards his waist, brushing the skin of Thomas’s stomach as his shirt rides up. </p><p>As the taxi pulls up in front of their hotel, Newt reaches into Thomas’s pocket, only pulling away for a second to fish for Thomas’s wallet.</p><p>Thomas just raises his eyebrow. “You using my credit card?”</p><p>Newt grins, kissing his cheek. “You make more money than me.”</p><p>Newt swipes Thomas’s credit card, leaving the driver who can barely look either of them in the eyes an extra nice tip. They stumble out of the car, barely able to keep their hands off of each other as they walk into the hotel, the bright fluorescent lights of the lobby sobering them up slightly.</p><p>“You coming to my room?” Newt asks as he pushes the up button for the elevator.</p><p>Thomas puts his finger on Newt’s lip. “Don’t ask that. That ruins the magic.”</p><p>“The magic?”</p><p>Once the elevator doors shut, Thomas reaches for the collar of Newt’s shirt and pulls him into another searing kiss. With his eyes closed, the world is dark and nothing is off-limits. The fire he feels in his stomach is the same fire from years ago. Newt’s sensitive spots are still all the same; the crease between his collarbone and his neck, the small of his back, the side of his hip. In the dark, the four years that have passed since college disappear.</p><p>They stumble out of the elevator, most likely making a ruckus as Newt tries to pull his room key out of the pockets of his pants. When he goes to turn on the lights, Thomas reaches for his hand and pulls them into the darkness.</p><p>He takes Newt’s shirt off first, kissing down his chest as he reaches for the buckle of his belt, savoring the sounds of Newt moaning as his pants fall and Thomas pulls down his boxers and the magic is <em> definitely </em>still there.</p><p>Just as long as it’s dark.</p><p> </p><p>IV.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand why it’s such a movie trope for brides to get nervous on their wedding day,” Teresa complains, rolling her eyes. “It’s so ridiculous. Like you know you want to marry him, so what’s the big hold-up, you know? Like why all of a sudden have cold feet?”</p><p>She’s sitting in her silk robe, with her hair pinned up on top of her head, stuffing her face with homemade chocolate brownies her mother had made in her bridal suite. As a child, whenever Teresa was stressed or nervous, she tended to fill the anxious void within her with sweets. The bridal suite is filled with windows, bright white sunlight shining throughout the room. The thick, green, velvet carpet is soft to walk over, in his bare feet. It feels heavenly – even though Teresa’s currently having a mental breakdown. </p><p>Thomas just watches her, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s crazy, right? You know you love him. So why are you nervous?”</p><p>Irritation flashes through her blue eyes when she looks at him and for a moment, panic flares through Thomas’s body. “I’m <em> not </em> nervous. I love Minho and I want to marry him, so I’m not nervous!”</p><p>Thomas calms down as she stands up and starts pacing in front of the mirror, grateful she hadn’t seen the dark purple hickey on his neck he’s been desperately trying to hide all morning. He’d been sleeping in Newt’s bed again, hungover out of his fucking mind, when his cell phone blared with an emergency SOS text message from Teresa.</p><p>He and Newt haphazardly put their clothes on, none of the awkwardness from the morning before lingering between them. By this point, Thomas realizes his drunken state of mind will do whatever the fuck it wants to do and has accepted it. He only has 24 more hours of being in this godforsaken state before he can go back home, where everything was normal and made sense. He might as well <em> enjoy </em> it.</p><p>Teresa had been pacing around in the suite when Thomas arrived, none of her other bridesmaids to be found, eating Skittles from a jar by the handful.</p><p>He stands up, shifting his collar at an unflattering angle to hide the love bite on his neck. “T, you’re walking so fast, smoke is coming from your feet.”</p><p>He knows she’s more nervous than she’s even letting on by the way she actually stops and stares at her feet in the mirror.</p><p>“Hey, hey,” he says in a reassuring voice, grabbing her elbow. “Look, you have butterflies in your stomach. It’s just because you’re excited! This is the day you’ve been waiting for your whole life. It changes nothing between you and Minho. At the end, it’s just a piece of paper that makes things official, official. You’re still the same crazy kids who drink too much and kick ass in the financial sector.”</p><p>Teresa’s face softens as she pushes for a smile. “Yeah, but what if everything’s about to change? What if all of a sudden … I don’t know.”</p><p>“Because there’s nothing to be nervous about!” Thomas says. “It changes nothing. Now you two file joint tax returns. You’ve already been living together. Nothing’s going to change. There’s no reason to be nervous.”</p><p>Teresa sighs, leaning into his outstretched arms. “Goddamnit, Tom. What would I do without you?”</p><p>“Do your make-up. Put on your dress. You’ve got nine hours to look beautiful and <em> relax </em>, okay? Everything’s under control.”</p><p>Teresa smiles, her hands flying to the top of her head. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’ll just … I’ll get ready.”</p><p>Harriet pokes her head in through the door. “Oh, good! Thomas, can you come here for a second?”</p><p>Thomas pats Teresa’s shoulder. “Be back later. I’ve got a couple last minute things to check on.”</p><p>Thomas follows Harriet out the door, who’s also still wearing a silk robe and pink fluffy slippers. “What’s up? Why aren’t you getting ready?”</p><p>“The florist hasn’t arrived,” she says, walking quickly down the hallway to keep up with his strides. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago and Sonya said she hasn’t heard from the catering manager since yesterday evening.”</p><p>Thomas just glares at the ceiling, wondering if he’s being punished by some force from up above for having drunk sex with his ex twice in a row. “So everything’s not under control?”</p><p>“Oh, the band’s here,” Harriet tells him optimistically. “An hour early, at least. Hungover, but here.”</p><p>“Fan-fucking-tastic.”</p><p> </p><p>V.</p><p> </p><p>“No Frypan, Minho’s extended cousins from South Korea are supposed to be sitting <em> away </em> from his parents. They don’t get along,” Thomas reprimands his friend a couple hours later, as he walks through the reception hall again inspecting all the gold name plates on the tables.</p><p>He must admit, the hall looks gorgeous: white roses strung from corner to corner, interwoven with golden fairy lights. The centerpieces are beautiful violet irises in tall glass vases. The table cloths are light blue, like the color of the sky stretching over Central Park on a sunny day, adorned with sterling silver Chinaware. </p><p>“Yeah, but that’s where you told me to put Teresa’s extended cousins from Brazil who <em> cannot </em> sit with her other cousins from Colombia,” Frypan groans as he collects the name tags.</p><p>Thomas presses his fingers to his forehead. “Dude, it’s not rocket science. Just look at the chart I gave you yesterday.”</p><p>“I did. <em> You </em> put the extended cousins in the wrong place,” Frypan says, pulling out the seating arrangement map Thomas had given him yesterday. Thomas takes it from him, rolling his eyes that absolutely nothing seems to be under control today. </p><p>He comes to a soul-crushing realization that he indeed in fact put Teresa’s extended cousins from Brazil and Colombia at the same table. “Fuck.”</p><p>“Why don’t you just put the Brazilian cousins near Minho’s family? Simple switcheroo,” Newt’s voice suggests, suddenly behind him.</p><p>Every hair on the back of Thomas’s neck stands up, but he cocks his head to the side, considering the suggestion. “Well. I can’t see World War 3 happening from that idea.”</p><p>Frypan nods. “I’m on it!”</p><p>“Thomas, can I talk to you for a second?” Newt asks. “It’s, uh, a problem with the catering company.”</p><p>“<em> Again </em> ?” Thomas nearly throws his clipboard up in the air, pronouncing both syllables of the word with equal exhaustion. “Jesus Christ, if I’d known they were so incompetent <em> yesterday </em>, I would’ve had another one lined up at the start of this morn–”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, sure, come on.” Newt pulls at his wrist impatiently, leading him away out of the reception hall.</p><p>“What is it now? I thought Sonya got in touch with the manager an hour –”</p><p>Newt pulls Thomas to the side, into the single stall restroom next to the courtyard. “There’s no catering emergency. I just wanted to get you alone.”</p><p>There’s a wild look in Newt’s eyes that can only come from pre-wedding stress. As the Best Man, he supposes Newt has his own list of inconveniences driving him wild. There was no way in hell he should be hiding in a bathroom with his ex instead of being on top of every last minute detail before the wedding, but there was also no way in hell he should have been having sex with his ex the past two nights in a row.</p><p>It <em> was </em> a scientifically proven fact that engaging in sexual activities provided endorphins that helped deal with stress. And if there was no real problem with the catering company, Thomas reasons this is a perfect time to catch his breath and relax.</p><p>He smirks as he unbuttons his shirt. “You’ve got five minutes.”</p><p>Newt laughs melodically as his hands fly over Thomas’s, taking over. “Please. I only need three.”</p><p> </p><p>VI.</p><p> </p><p>Thomas snaps his fingers to himself, softly singing along with the playlist,<em> “Please don’t ever become a stranger, whose laugh I could recognize anywhere.” </em></p><p>Minho cuts him a weird look next to him. “Are you Cinderella now? Singing to let the world know you’re happy?”</p><p>Thomas shakes his head, going back to eating his salad. Everyone was on a real break now, fueling their energy with a last minute lunch before the chaos of the final two hours struck. He was eating in the grooms’ suite with Minho and Sonya, sharing chicken caesar salads and alfredo pasta.</p><p>“I just feel good about today, you know?” He grins, elbowing Minho in the side. “My two best friends are getting married! Why shouldn’t we be happy?”</p><p>Minho shrugs, spearing his lettuce. “You think someone’s gonna say ‘I object’?”</p><p>Sonya gasps, kicking at Minho’s exposed ankle, who yelps out in pain. He glares back at her. “The fuck was that for?”</p><p>“Why would you say that? Who would object to you two?” She crosses her arms. “Don’t bring bad luck on today. Everything has been going perfect so far!”</p><p>Thomas takes a generous sip of red wine to hold back his scoff.</p><p>“I don’t know. It feels like everything’s going too perfect.” Minho goes back to spearing his food. He’s not eating very much, Thomas notices. Unlike Teresa, Minho rarely ate when he was nervous.</p><p>Sonya exchanges a brief glance with Thomas. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Look, even Newt and Thomas made amends. Only miracles can happen this weekend!”</p><p>Thomas almost chokes on the rest of his lunch, but to lose his composure would be to invite questions about the <em> nature </em> of his current relationship with his ex. And even though neither Newt nor Thomas have talked about it much, it seems to be an unspoken rule that all of this stays between the two of them.</p><p>So he just rolls his eyes at Sonya and turns to Minho. “Nothing’s gonna go wrong. We’ve got everything under control, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>VII.</p><p> </p><p>Teresa’s little cousins – 4, 6, and 8 year old demon terrors – sprint through the hotel’s lobby, screaming with glee, waving Teresa’s veil in the air. </p><p>“Why did you let them near the cake?!” Thomas scolds Harriet as they chase after the kids.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she snaps rather unapologetically. “I didn’t realize babysitting was on my agenda of things to do!”</p><p>“Yeah, but the <em> cake </em>?”</p><p>“Yeah, but the <em> veil </em>?” Harriet glares at him. “Who leaves that just lying around?”</p><p>“Who leaves kids near cake?!”</p><p> </p><p>VIII.</p><p> </p><p>Thomas feels uncharacteristically nervous.</p><p>He’d been the one convincing his two best friends all afternoon that there was nothing to stress over, and every <em> single </em>time he reassured them that everything was under control, something fell apart. So he stopped saying the exact words, “everything is under control,” and just started smiling and reassuring the two of them that they looked great.</p><p>But he feels nervous standing in the bridal suite, adjusting his tie for the millionth time in front of the mirror. The ceremony starts in ten minutes and everyone is about to start getting lined up. Teresa’s in her white, silky ballroom dress, the make-up artist putting the final touches on her face. Even she’s smiling, a long way from the nervous wreck she was this morning, laughing with her mother who looks uncomfortable with getting her hair curled.</p><p>“I think we look pretty good,” Harriet says, stepping next to him in the mirror. She’s in a sleeve-less, satin blue gown, her curly hair framed like a halo around her head.</p><p>“Yeah, we pretty much steal the show.”</p><p>She smiles and pats him on the shoulder, before walking away. The nerves attack his stomach again and he tries to pretend it’s butterflies of excitement for his best friend.</p><p>Teresa looks up in her mirror at the same time as him, winking at his reflection across the room. </p><p>His heart beats even faster. <em> Why is he so goddamn nervous? </em></p><p>The wedding planner sticks her head in the suite. “It’s time, everyone!”</p><p>His place is right in front of Teresa, who inspects her bouquet of roses. “You think I should’ve chosen irises, or something? Might’ve matched the theme more. We could’ve put roses in the centerpieces instead.”</p><p>Thomas is ready to offer to run to the nearest florist, in search of iris bouquets and a hundred rose centerpieces.</p><p>“No, actually. Everything’s perfect,” she says with a smile, before he can even open his mouth. She looks up and nudges him. “Tom? Go.”</p><p>Thomas realizes the rest of the group has walked off without them. He chuckles nervously and hurries to catch up with them, his feet padding against the velvet carpet. </p><p>The groomsmen are already waiting in front of the doors, the organ playing its traditional procession. Teresa’s father covers his mouth, to hold back his tears at the sight of her. She kisses him on the cheek, speaking to him in Portuguese.</p><p>Gigi and Minho’s friend from high school walk in first.</p><p>“Step by step,” Newt murmurs, suddenly next to him.</p><p>“One foot in front of the other.”</p><p>“How nice of them to not make it so complicated for us.”</p><p>“I’m surprised they trust us not to get it wrong,” Thomas says as Sonya and Harriet walk out, beaming with pride. “What if we step forward with the wrong foot?”</p><p>Panic flashes over Newt’s face, like he’s stopped breathing. <em> We have to do it in step. If you’re a step ahead of me, everyone will be talking about it for the rest of our lives. </em></p><p>In a daring show of bravery, Thomas loops his elbow through Newt’s and whispers. “It’s left.”</p><p>And then it’s their turn.</p><p>All eyes watch them as they come down the aisle, left foot forward then right. Thomas smiles, in some relief that his heart has finally resumed beating at a normal pace. His mother’s even smiling at him, no indication of wariness that his arm is looped with Newt’s. She just looks proud and happy. Newt’s parents are in the same row, but on the opposite side. He catches Mrs. Newton’s eye, hiding his surprise when she winks at him.</p><p>Before they get to the end of the aisle, at the altar where Minho’s grinning at the two of them, Newt squeezes Thomas’s wrist and whispers, “Thank you.”</p><p>Then they split apart, standing on opposite sides of the altar, watching as Teresa and her father come down the aisle. Thomas thinks he sees tears at the corner of Minho’s eyes, his friend smiling wider than he could have ever thought possible. </p><p>Thomas smiles too, bittersweet pangs tugging at his heart. If anyone were to make it, he was glad it was Minho and Teresa.</p><p> </p><p>IX.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re fucking married, bitches!” Teresa exclaims later, holding up a shot of tequila with her arm wrapped around her new husband’s shoulders.</p><p>“Cheers!” Sonya yells over the music blaring in the reception hall, as the six of them raise their shot glasses to Teresa’s and then tip their heads back. The tequila burns going down their throats, but Thomas is used to it by this point. It’s almost like drinking water.</p><p>While yes, he’s happy that his friends had a beautiful ceremony, he’s very much glad the stress of it is over. All the kids have gone to bed by now, so the bar is open to everyone over twenty-one, and most of the older adults have retired for the evening.</p><p>Thomas’s mom gave him a kiss on the cheek before she and Officer Tommy headed up to their room, congratulating Teresa one last time on such a beautiful day. Her own parents were still there, mingling with Minho’s by the dessert table.</p><p>“Aw, this was the best day ever,” Harriet drawls. “You guys looked so beautiful.”</p><p>Minho tugs at his collar. “I always look beautiful, Emmanuel.”</p><p>Teresa kisses his cheek. “Yeah, but tonight I stole the show.”</p><p>“Not true!” Minho protests. He looks to Newt and Thomas for back-up. “I looked better, didn’t I?”</p><p>Newt nods his head reassuringly, while Thomas just shrugs. “I’ve seen better.”</p><p>Minho laughs as he pulls Thomas into a headlock, ruffling his hair, Thomas futilely trying to remove himself from the death grip. “Get him off of me!”</p><p>As the night goes on, the six of them are never <em> too </em>far away from each other. If someone so much as yawns, Minho’s already right beside them with a shot of whiskey or tequila in his hands. It’s nice, Thomas thinks, to be with his best friends all over again. </p><p>“Was this not the best wedding ever?” Brenda asks him, as they refill their glasses of champagne by the bar. “Man, I’m thinking we should get married in New York.”</p><p>She’s talking about Alby, of course, but the irony isn’t lost on Thomas. Sometimes he wonders why he’s able to still be so friendly with his ex-girlfriend from college, but whenever he’s the least bit friendly with Newt, they end up taking each other’s clothes off.</p><p>“Of course you should,” Thomas says, as if his mind hasn’t wandered elsewhere. “And I should obviously be the Man of Honor again. I did a good job, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Not too shabby.” Brenda’s eyes narrow on her boyfriend’s, across the room, taking shots with Minho. “You think he’ll ever ask me?”</p><p>“Duh. He loves you. He’d be an idiot to throw away something so special.”</p><p>Brenda smiles at him, patting his shoulder. “You’re special too, Thomas. You know that right?”</p><p>It’s then he hears a laugh from behind him, like he’s being broadcast through the speakers, above the rest of the noise. Newt’s not anywhere near him, but he knows it’s Newt’s laugh. It’s one he used to hear all the time in the private of their apartment – and the effects of what they’ve done are finally starting to catch up to him. </p><p>When Thomas goes back home, his one-bedroom apartment will be dark and quiet. His walls and living room bare, devoid of any decoration that would claim the place as his own. He likes things simple so he never bought art to hang over the white plush couch, or plants to sit on the nightstand with the television. His shelves aren’t lined with any of the spices Newt used to cook with, because he always orders in. The only things in his fridge are bottles of beer and a carton of eggs. </p><p>Newt’s become a stranger to him now, and when this fantasy weekend is over, when they have to keep the lights on, that’s all he will be to him all over again.</p><p>Hell, he hadn’t even known Newt had broken up with the other guy until Sonya said something. He didn’t know when or why they broke up – or if at one point in time, <em> Arthur </em> had an invite to this wedding, too. The effects of their actions are finally starting to catch up to him. </p><p>He pushes a smile back at Brenda, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re only saying that because you want me to be your best man.”</p><p>Maybe Newt can sense it later – when they linger behind the rest of the guests, the last ones along with their friends at the party – the distance Thomas has to put between them again. Teresa and Minho escaped long ago, so it’s just all of their old college pals hanging around, drinking beer to a reception hall with no music.</p><p>Newt’s more touchy-feely than he’s been with Thomas in <em> years </em>, especially in public. He’s brushing their shoulders together during the conversation, but no one else seems to be really paying attention. Not even Brenda, who’s eagle eye has been on Thomas all evening. She’s gazing adoringly into Alby’s eyes, swaying to a nonexistent beat. Not even Teresa or Minho, not even Sonya or Harriet.</p><p>When the group finally splinters for the night, no one makes any comment on Newt and Thomas heading off in the same direction. Thomas doesn’t banter back with the same passion as the nights before. He stares at his ex in front of him, to see his features have defined more over the years. He’s even filled out more in his shoulders, but Thomas never took the time to see all of that over the past couple of days. He’d been so engrossed, so <em> drunk </em> in the memories he used to have of Newt that he failed to see the completely new person standing next to him.</p><p>And he thinks Newt <em> must </em> feel the difference in the air, because they don’t talk very much that night. Everything’s quick, their clothes flying off in the darkness of Newt’s hotel room. It’s not passionate, it’s hungry and aggressive, like they’d just had another one of their explosive fights and needed a way to calm down before arguing with each other all over again.</p><p>When it’s over, when Newt’s finally succumbed to the comfort of sleep, Thomas eases himself out of the bed, gathering all of his clothes before slipping out the door before the morning light comes through the window. </p><p>This time he won’t have to blame the hangover.</p><p> </p><p>X.</p><p> </p><p>The next day when Teresa and Minho have to say goodbye to their families, while Sonya, Harriet, Newt, and Thomas hang out in the courtyard after saying goodbye to their own parents. Thomas does everything in his power not to keep looking over at Newt, which is hard considering they end up sitting right next to each other. But maybe Newt’s avoiding him too, and Thomas thinks he deserves that.</p><p>“Well? What’d you think?” </p><p>Thomas is brooding, as his mom would say, staring at the pavilion in front of them. Families who have just arrived for summer vacation are lounging around, their kids screaming as they run in circles.</p><p>“Thomas?”</p><p>He perks his head up, finally realizing Sonya had been trying to get his attention. “What?”</p><p>“Martha’s Vineyard, for 4th July weekend? It’s kind of in the middle of all of us, and I’m sure I can take some more time off.”</p><p>Thomas refrains from looking in Newt’s direction. “Oh, I don’t know Sonya. It’s kind of late, isn’t it? That’s in a couple weeks.”</p><p>Sonya’s face falls in utter disappointment, but neither Harriet nor Newt seem to be surprised by his answer. “But … wasn’t this weekend nice?”</p><p>This weekend was nice for many reasons, but Thomas knows lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same spot. He’s realistic now and knows that sooner or later, Newt’s going to find another boyfriend, another <em> Arthur </em>. Who’s to say spending another holiday weekend with his ex was going to be nice again, especially if his ex actually brought another lover this time?</p><p>He knows people are used to him flaking on plans now. It’s why Harriet isn’t putting up too much of a fight, and maybe Newt’s just too confused by his actions last night to say anything without implicating them both. He’d love to go back to college and do it all over again, where he would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.</p><p>But it’d been four years and things had changed too much.</p><p>As if saved by the bell, Teresa and Minho finally meet them out on the courtyard, holding cartons of orange juice and bottles of champagne. “Thank God that’s over. All of my aunts are asking me when the baby’s coming, when are we going to settle down and start having children. We literally <em> just </em> got married.” Teresa rolls her eyes as she sits down in the lounge chair with Thomas. A lounge chair that’s very much meant for one person.</p><p>He frowns at the assortment of liquids before them. “Did you guys get cups?”</p><p>Teresa and Minho exchange a look. “Fuck.”</p><p>“Mimosas are for fancy people,” Harriet declares. “Let’s just drink the champagne straight from the bottle.”</p><p>Sonya stands up, holding one of the champagne bottles. “To Teresa and Minho! Real fucking adults. We’re bloody proud of you two.”</p><p>Harriet stands up and holds the bottle with her. Teresa and Minho are holding their own, which leaves only one champagne bottle left on the table.</p><p>Thomas has to finally look at Newt, where his ex is looking back at him. But there’s no malice in his eyes, no haunting question, <em> why didn’t you stay last night </em>? </p><p>Newt actually <em> smirks </em> at him, reaching for the bottle and standing up. Thomas hesitantly rises to the challenge, his fingers accidentally brushing Newt’s to hold onto the bottle.</p><p>“Cheers!” Newt says as the rest of them cheer, uncorking the bottles and letting the champagne fly out. Newt looks him in the eyes as he takes a shot, before passing the bottle to Thomas. </p><p><em> It could’ve been you and Arthur standing here, instead of you and me </em>. </p><p>“I’m not drinking anymore,” Thomas hears himself saying, a haunting chill spreading throughout his body. He stares back at Newt, as if that would explain the words that just came out of his mouth.</p><p>Newt nods encouragingly, his expression friendly but unreadable. “Bloody good for you.”</p><p>He takes another swig from the bottle, turning to Harriet and Sonya who are trying to take the perfect selfie.</p><p>Thomas lets his words linger in the air and turns to Teresa, tapping her shoulder. “I’m not drinking anymore.”</p><p>Teresa smiles at him, touching his shoulder. “Okay, Tom. I’m proud of you.”</p><p>“I’m proud of <em> you </em>,” he says, winking at Minho. “You two did alright.”</p><p>“Think so?” Teresa asks, grinning as she leans into her husband’s touch. </p><p>Minho kisses her forehead. “You know, whenever we do feel like having little brats, I think they’re gonna be perfect.”</p><p>Teresa laughs and Thomas steps back, to give them their privacy. He looks at his friends, laughing with each other as they drink from the champagne bottle and shout over each other. He wants to savor them in this moment, just like this, without the sad goodbyes in their eyes that will inevitably come when they all have to drive to the airport together and get on their separate departing flights.</p><p>He steps back slowly again, hoping he can slip into the shadows as he walks back into the hotel. He turns around and starts walking away, when he hears someone call after him,</p><p>“Thomas?”</p><p>Thomas stops, turning around. It’s Sonya, poking her head in from outside. She looks ghostly in the sunset behind her. “You’re not leaving, are you?”</p><p>Thomas chuckles drily, pointing to the restrooms behind him. “Just going to the bathroom.”</p><p>“Oh,” Sonya says. She forces her own little laugh. “It just looked like you were trying to leave. Without saying goodbye.”</p><p>“No, of course not,” he says, realizing he actually means it this time. “I’m going with you all to the airport as promised.”</p><p>Although, once they all actually do get to the airport, Thomas finds himself wishing he had slipped away. There’s so much tension in the Uber, you could only cut through it with a sharp sword. No one talks much nor sings along to the radio. </p><p>When they get out in front of the Departures area, they all take their suitcases out of the van, crowding around each other. Thomas wishes this part were already over – and that he hadn’t spent so much time all weekend waiting for this part to come.</p><p>“Well, thank you guys for coming,” Minho says, clearing his throat, his arm around Teresa’s shoulder. </p><p>“Let’s not wait so long to catch up,” Harriet suggests. She looks at Thomas and Newt specifically, as if they were the ones who plotted not to be invited to those secret meet-ups. </p><p>“4th July weekend?” Sonya asks. Thomas already knows she’s looking straight at <em> him </em>. “Martha’s Vineyard. It’ll be fun.”</p><p>Thomas looks around, realizing they’re all looking at him. Even Newt. “I’ll … I’ll see what I can do. It’s … it does sound fun, it’s just … you know. Late notice, and this is just a really busy time at the office, so.”</p><p>He pretends not to see the four of them exchanging glances and takes this as his cue to leave. He hugs Harriet first. “You still in Toronto?”</p><p>“Close,” Harriet teases. “Boston now.”</p><p>“Oh wow. They haven’t converted you into a Red Sox fan yet, have they?”</p><p>Harriet rolls her eyes. “Well, you’ll just have to come see when you visit.”</p><p>Thomas chuckles. He can’t really tell if she’s serious, considering they both know he most likely won’t. “Okay. See you later.”</p><p>He hugs Sonya, the other girl squeezing him tightly. “Promise you’ll call when you land?”</p><p>“You’ll still be in the air when I land.” </p><p>“Okay well, <em> I’ll </em> call when I land.” She pulls away, gripping his shoulders. “And truly think about Martha’s Vineyard. Because if you don’t, we’re coming to <em> you </em> for Labor Day Weekend and don’t you <em> dare </em> say it’s a busy weekend at the office.”</p><p>Thomas levels her gaze, with a smile. “I’m not scared of you Sonya, you know.”</p><p>She playfully punches him in the shoulder. “You bloody well should be!”</p><p>He hugs Minho and Teresa, the ice in his heart melting a little knowing that he’ll at least see the two of them for Thanksgiving this year. “I still can’t believe it. You two are real adults, huh?”</p><p>“Real enough.” Teresa grins, flashing her ring finger. </p><p>“Don’t make this all sappy now. We have a cruise to be excited for.” Minho grins. He claps Thomas on the back. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? If you’re ever up here for a conference, you better say something.”</p><p>“I will.” This, he thinks, he might actually mean.</p><p>Then Thomas turns to Newt, saving him for last because he’s still not sure if he should hug him in front of their friends or just shake their hands. But Newt winks, so fast Thomas thinks he might have imagined it. </p><p>“We don’t have to say goodbye just yet. We might have the same flight.”</p><p>Thomas internally freezes. How did he forget Newt <em> still </em> lived in D.C? </p><p>“Oh,” Thomas manages to say. “We better get going then.”</p><p>They say one last goodbye to their friends, waving at them as they disappear into the airport to check their bags in. They’re making their way to the security lines, when they both ask at the same time:</p><p>“You reckon they’ll make –?”</p><p>“You still live in D.C?”</p><p>Newt shrugs. “Yeah, I still work at the Strathmore.”</p><p>For all the catching up they had done over the weekend, it had been physical rather than verbal. Thomas can’t pinpoint why, but he’s unnerved that Newt’s lived in the same city as he has for the past four years and they hadn’t run into each other <em> once </em>. Of course, D.C was big and even when they were dating, they liked to hang out in different spots, but it’s still weird. D.C had always been Thomas’s dream, something that Newt came along with for the ride.</p><p>He hadn’t expected him to stay after the break-up.</p><p>“Oh,” Thomas says again, eloquently. To redeem himself, he says, “That’s in Bethesda.”</p><p>Newt snorts. “Are you giving me a geography lesson?”</p><p>“No, I was just … mentioning it.” They push forward in the security line, still flooded with people, but Thomas wants to jump off a platform. Anything to get out of this awkward conversation. </p><p>“Do you still live in Anacostia?”</p><p>Thomas shakes his head. “Georgetown.”</p><p>“Oh,” Newt says, full of surprise. “I live in Westchester.”</p><p>“Why?” Thomas asks. When Newt’s face contorts in confusion, he quickly says, “No I - I’m just saying … it’s, uh, it’s far from Bethesda.”</p><p>“It was farther when we lived in Anacostia,” Newt says drily.</p><p>Thomas thinks back to their apartment in Anacostia, that they had chosen primarily because of its proximity to the World Bank. It was dumb, in retrospect, because Thomas hadn’t even been working at the World Bank at the time. He’d just wanted to be close.</p><p>And Newt went with him, anyways. </p><p>He’s not sure what to make of Newt bringing that up, considering Newt never complained about the commute when they were living together. </p><p>So he just changes the subject. “Westchester’s pricey.” </p><p>He <em> hates </em> small talk.</p><p>“Yeah, it was easier to afford when it was uh, me and, um, my, uh, other ex,” Newt stammers, his face turning red. “So, I’m … I’m thinking about moving.”</p><p>Thomas can’t tell if he’s relieved or unnerved by the prospect. Either reaction terrifies him. “Oh.”</p><p>Newt looks at him, before looking at the conveyor belts they’re approaching. “You reckon they’ll make me take my shoes off?”</p><p>“Of course they will,” Thomas scoffs. “You always ask this and they always make you take your shoes off every time.”</p><p>Newt grins, as he dutifully takes his shoes off and puts his belongings onto the conveyor belt. They pass through security without any problems, neither of them had packed too many liquids or questionable items that would cause them to be pulled aside. </p><p>Once they’re through, their shoes and belts back on, they stare up at the screen listing all of the gate departures.</p><p>“I guess you’re also heading to C36?” Thomas asks. </p><p>Surprise flashes over Newt’s face. “Oh. No actually, I’m … I’m going to A12. I guess we don’t have the same flight, after all.”</p><p>Again, Thomas can’t distinguish relief from disappointment. “Oh. Okay.”</p><p>They stand awkwardly in front of the screen, staring at their suitcases instead of each other.</p><p>“So I should go,” Thomas says at the same time Newt stammers, “Look I was thinking –”</p><p>Thomas raises his eyebrow. “What?”</p><p>“There’s this art show at the Strathmore in a month or so” Newt explains, looking at his hands as he speaks. “I’m curating it, actually. It would be nice, I guess, if you could come.”</p><p>When Newt first started his job, all he had talked about was getting the chance to curate an art show at the Strathmore. Thomas never had any idea what that actually meant but it seemed to make Newt happy, so it made him happy at the time. It surprises him, that he feels a little pride growing in his chest, that Newt had finally achieved what he’d wanted.</p><p>So, like the dumbass disaster he is, all he manages to say is, “It’s kinda far.”</p><p>Newt just shrugs as if unfazed by his response. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”</p><p>Thomas finds himself at a loss for words. <em> Why are you saying sorry?  </em></p><p>“I should get going. It was good to see you this weekend, Thomas.” There’s a long moment of hesitation between them, neither of them knowing if they should go in for a hug or a simple handshake.</p><p>Instead, Newt grips his suitcase, awkwardly waving at Thomas before turning towards the direction of the A gates. Thomas watches him walk away. <em> It could’ve been you and Arthur this weekend, instead of you and me </em>. </p><p>He stares at his watch, then sighs.</p><p>“Hey Newt?”</p><p>Newt stops, turning around. Now he looks surprised.</p><p>Thomas nods his head in the direction of the burger restaurant behind him. “Wanna grab a bite to eat before your flight?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>original ending of this was thomas looking at his watch after newt walks away, but then walking away himself to catch his flight. hope you guys like this one!</p><p>so after having my mental breakdown, i edited this for three hours and rewrote a few scenes that i never really liked in the original version of this chapter that i had almost kept in and now i'm much happier with the finished product and thomas/newt's emotional journey throughout this. did you like having a small snippet of newt's POV?</p><p>next chapter's going to be fun to write, i think. it's going to have more of a time jump, more newt x thomas moments specifically since it'll take place in DC than NYC. we're even going to meet the infamous arthur! </p><p>sooo....pretend this was technically uploaded on a saturday to keep with my saturday night update schedule. technically on the west coast/hawaii of the united states – it was!</p><p>find me on tweeter (wckdisaks) or tumblr (ourlovelybones). thank you guys for reading &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. to die for</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"He hadn’t lied to Teresa and Minho when they’d asked if he had spoken to Newt since coming home from the wedding: he just flat-out didn’t answer their question and they hadn’t noticed.</p><p>He wasn’t exactly sure how to describe the current status between Newt and him, which was why he hadn’t felt like bringing it up."</p><p>last chapter: the one where newt and thomas figure things out.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>since it's the 16th of may and our beloved thomas brodie sangster's birthday ... i finally got my shit together and got this chapter written. sorry for the wait. hope it was worth it x</p><p>(in this universe, the characters' birthdays fall on the actors' real birthdays. so technically it's also newt's birthday! happy birthday, newt!)</p><p>dedicated to my lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/alones/pseuds/alones">Bre</a>. love you girl!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>June</em>
</p><p>“And now I can officially say, we’ve done it in ten countries!” Teresa brags over FaceTime, having returned from her honeymoon tanned and glowing. She and Minho had booked a special tour package of Tahiti and the Society Islands, ending their trip in Bora and Bora. In addition to the all the surfing, snorkeling, whale-watching, swimming with dolphins, and dancing they’d gotten to do, Teresa also made sure to mention how much sex they’d had.</p><p>“It was truly magical, Tom.” She sighed, a wistful gleam in her eyes.</p><p>Thomas raised his eyebrow. “The islands?”</p><p>“Sure,” Teresa says. She turns her attention back to him, squinting at him. “Wait, what were we talking about again?”</p><p>Thomas checks the time on his laptop screen. “Forty-five minutes ago, I asked you if you were a drinking a martini.”</p><p>“Oh.” Teresa looks at the glass in her hand and holds it up. “Yeah, another thing we did on our honeymoon. I learned how to make martinis! You think I should become a bartender?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Spoilsport.” Teresa grins anyways. “So what’s up with you? How have things been at the office?”</p><p>Thomas snorts. “You’re <em>never</em> going to guess who started working at my office.”</p><p>Teresa waits a moment. “Do you actually want me to guess?”</p><p>“It’s Gally!” Thomas exclaims, waiting for her to react. But Teresa just frowns. “Remember Gally from college?”</p><p>“From college? Oh – <em>yeah</em>. Wow. I haven’t thought about him in years.”</p><p>“Haven’t thought about who in years?” Minho’s voice asks off-camera.</p><p>Teresa lifts her eyes towards him over her web-cam. “Gally. You remember him from college? Some guy I used to hook up with sometimes?”</p><p>Minho frowns as comes into frame, in a plush white bathrobe holding his own martini. He plops down on the couch next to Teresa, expertly not spilling any of his drink. “I remember that guy. He used to throw Valentine’s Day parties at the same time I did, as some sort of competition. Didn’t I win?”</p><p>Thomas shrugs. “I don’t remember. It was years ago.”</p><p>“Oh my God!” Teresa interjects. “He was also friends with the guy who knocked up Sonya.”</p><p>Minho almost chokes on his drink. “<em>Wow</em>. I forgot about <em>that</em>, holy shit. We were fucking wild in college, weren’t we? Our kids are never going to go. We’re homeschooling them until they’re 30.”</p><p>“He also socked Newt in the eye, didn’t he?” Teresa asks.</p><p>“It was his jaw,” Thomas corrects her without missing a beat. “He couldn’t eat solid food for like a week.”</p><p>Teresa and Minho exchange the briefest glance, one Thomas might have missed if he hadn’t been expecting the two of them to ask their next question. “So, uh, you and Newt?”</p><p>He leans back on his couch, sipping root beer, which was no satisfactory substitute to what he really wanted. “What?”</p><p>“Have you guys spoken since?” Teresa asks casually, as if she hadn’t been waiting to ask him that question the moment they started video-chatting each other.</p><p>“If you’re asking about Martha’s Vineyard, I can’t go. I already told Sonya it’s too busy a time for me at the office because it’s the end of the fiscal year. That’s why Gally and some others have been brought on,” Thomas explains. “I wake up at six, I get to the office, and on a <em>good</em> day I’m out of there by 9pm.”</p><p>Teresa makes a face. “God. I hope you’re getting overtime.”</p><p>“So what are you gonna do that weekend instead?” Minho asks.</p><p>“I’m going to rent a boat and sail into the Potomac to watch the fireworks.”</p><p>Both Teresa and Minho frown.</p><p>“I’m kidding,” he says.</p><p>Truthfully, Thomas would like nothing more than to get whiskey at his favorite bar a couple blocks over, before it got too crowded with older couples on a rare night off from watching their kids, trying instead to watch the fireworks on the TV screens. Then he’d go home, drink some more whiskey, while watching reruns of the Mets greatest plays from the comfort of his own couch.</p><p>But he’s still on his no-drinking cleanse, without a decided end date in sight. He was most likely going to be cranky.</p><p>“Nothing certain lined up just yet,” Thomas says. “What about you guys?”</p><p>“We’re probably gonna stay here. It doesn’t make sense for Sonya to fly all the way out here again from London for only a couple days when she’s just left,” Teresa says.</p><p>“Maybe we can all do something for Labor Day instead,” Minho suggests.</p><p>Teresa shuts that idea down before Thomas can. “No, that doesn’t work. Labor Day Weekend’s busiest for Wall Street. Columbus Day weekend?”</p><p>“British people don’t celebrate that shit.” Minho shakes his head. “The next holiday after that is Thanksgiving, again which British people don’t celebrate. So we’d all have to trek over to London unless we wanted to wait for Christmas.”</p><p>“But that’s a long time.” Teresa frowns. “It’s almost July. We wouldn’t see each other for another six months.”</p><p>They both look at him, their heads turning in perfect synchronization as only a married couple could do. Thomas suspects it’s because they’re worried he’ll bail, that he’ll find an excuse not to come. And it’s all valid, Thomas thinks tiredly. Sure, the weekend was fun – magical even, to take a word from Teresa’s book. It almost felt like things could be normal again.</p><p>But he worries he’s pushed his friends too far away, that no matter how much time passes between him and Newt, there’s always going to be the ghost of their breakup keeping them from becoming true friends again.</p><p>He avoids giving Teresa and Minho an outright answer again and goes for a joke. “Maybe we should just convince Sonya or Harriet to get married soon instead.”</p><p>Teresa and Minho exchange another glance, probably a <em>we’ll talk about this later</em> look. He’s starting to wonder how much they discuss his and Newt’s life when they’re not around. But Teresa, thankfully, changes the subject. “Is it weird?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Working with Gally. Duh!”</p><p>Working with Gally <em>was</em> weird, at first, considering they were sworn enemies in college and hadn’t seen each other since. There had been that brief moment at graduation, where Thomas had approached him with an honest apology, thinking the two would never see each other again and Gally had made some odd reference to a movie that flew right over Thomas’s head.</p><p>Which was why Thomas stopped dead in his tracks the Tuesday morning he’d returned to the office after the wedding last week, frowning at the familiar tall and pale man leaning over his coworker Jeff’s desk.</p><p>Jeff noticed him first, raising his hand to wave. “Yo, Thomas! How was the wedding?”</p><p>Gally stood up to greet him, clearly expecting someone else named Thomas to be his new supervisor. He'd stiffened when they locked eyes. Neither of them knew how to react.</p><p>Jeff didn’t seem to pick up on the awkwardness, taking it upon himself to introduce the two. “This is Gally. He’s one of the new recruits that joined the office yesterday. Gally, this is Thomas Greene, our senior financial advisor and head of this department.”</p><p>Thomas was literally frozen in place. Still holding his cup of coffee that must’ve gone cold by now and his briefcase.</p><p>Gally moved to action first, crossing the room and extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Thomas. I look forward to working with you.”</p><p>The look in Gally’s eyes screamed, <em>just go with it</em>, so Thomas did, shaking his hand rather robotically. He’d already dealt with enough blasts from the past over the previous weekend. “You too, Gally. Uh, Jeff let everyone know we’ll start our morning debriefing in a few minutes.”</p><p>That evening when he was getting ready to pack up his belongings and head home for the night, he was surprised to see Gally still in his cubicle, a styrofoam cup of steaming ramen noodles by his keyboard. Thomas made his way out of his office slowly, allowing him time to decide whether or not he’d speak to Gally before leaving.</p><p>His curiosity ended up getting the better of him. “I didn’t –”</p><p>But Gally had clearly not heard him approaching, because the other man jumped so high out of his chair, his noodles nearly spilled all over his keyboard. “Oh my God. Sorry. I had no idea anyone was still here.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Thomas said quickly, a little startled himself. He gestures to the rest of the cubicles, which had gone dark a couple hours ago. “I’m usually the last one here. I was just gonna say, I didn’t know you worked in finance. But then I guess I never knew what your major was in college.”</p><p>“Yeah, I almost said the same thing to you this morning,” Gally said, making it the longest civil conversation the two of them had ever had. “But it makes sense.”</p><p>Thomas raised his eyebrow.</p><p>“We were both in Advanced Calculus with Janson freshman year. Necessary prerequisite course for accounting, business, and economics majors.”</p><p>Thomas snorted, memories of the “Rat-Man” coming back to him. “Oh yeah. We hated him.”</p><p>“You did?” Gally asked, genuinely surprised. “We thought he was pretty cool.”</p><p>“Figures,” Thomas muttered under his breath. “You do know, it’s after 9:30 right? You can go home.”</p><p>Gally’s cheeks turned light crimson. He turned back to his computer screen, his shoulders tensed. “Yeah, yeah, I was – uh, yeah. I know. I was gonna. Eventually.”</p><p>Thomas watched him, trying to hold back a grin. “You fucked up a client file, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Gally groaned, slumping in his swivel chair. “I’m fired, aren’t I?”</p><p>Thomas shook his head, pushing another swivel chair towards Gally’s desk. “I fucked up many times during my first week. Granted, it wasn’t during – well, you know, <em>now </em>– but at least it’s not Paige who found you out.”</p><p>Gally shuddered. “She’s fucking scary.”</p><p>“She scares everyone,” Thomas said, more to reassure him. It seemed imprudent to mention that he was the only one in the office who didn’t share that same fear of their CEO. Ava Paige was just aloof. She expected work to be done in a timely and professional manner. She didn’t like mistakes, she didn’t like disorder around the office. She didn’t smile or laugh or spend time in the lounge room drinking coffee, because there was always work to be done or another client to wrestle into the firm.</p><p>Thomas knew how to charm over people like her; hell, she was a piece of cake considering his <em>last</em> boss, who nearly gave him a stress-induced ulcer. All he had to do was what she wanted – then go above and beyond. If he was expected to put together a strategy plan for a start-up company’s finances, he would deliver that document and a report on how they could increase their wealth in the long-run. In his early years with the company, he didn’t spend his free time in the lounge room, bonding with his coworkers – no, that could happen after hours, at a bar. Instead he researched companies they should have on board to sponsor and boost their reputation.</p><p>Paige loved him. Loved him so much she put him in charge of the Wealth and Risks division within the first six months he’d arrived at the office.</p><p>“Client files are the worst because they don’t always report every expense to us that they should, but it obviously comes out in their budget, right?” Thomas explained. He opened up the document on Gally’s computer that must’ve been stressing him out all day, Thomas's eyes scanning over the bank statements and comparing them to the report a sports leisure company had sent over. “Most of the time it’s because they’re not reporting their higher-up’s personal expenses. That's because they shouldn’t be using company money for things like Ubers or take-out lunches. This business does this all the time.”</p><p>“Really?” Gally asked, the relief strong in his voice.</p><p>“It’s annoying but you just have to keep hounding them for accurate numbers. Get all of the receipts from their company’s credit cards, if they push back,” Thomas told him and stood up. “But you’re not going to get anywhere with that tonight – they’ve all gone home. Like you should. Get some sleep and start over in the morning. Tomorrow’s a new day.”</p><p>Gally saved his work and then wrote a note to himself on a sticky note, before he shut off his computer. “You know, they talk about you all the time when you’re not here.”</p><p>Thomas frowned. “What? Who?”</p><p>“The other advisors. Jeff told me you’re the best boss, but you don’t socialize much outside of the office.”</p><p>Thomas shrugged as they walked to the elevators. “Sometimes, I'll go out for drinks with them after work.”</p><p>“Yeah but apparently, you’d only be there for like ten minutes before you’d end up going home with someone.” Gally snorted. Thomas was surprised to hear himself chuckling along with the other man. “It was the only way they knew you weren’t having some sort of secret affair with Paige.”</p><p>“An <em>affair</em>?” Thomas asked in surprise, as they stepped into the elevators. “Holy fuck. Maybe I should go out with them more.”</p><p>“I was surprised about that too, not gonna lie. Last I saw you, you were, um, you know. You had been … in a very serious relationship.”</p><p>Thomas tried not to cringe. “Oh. Yeah.”</p><p>They rode down in silence for a little while, the numbers flashing on the screen before them. <em>45…44…43…42.</em></p><p>It wasn’t until they got to <em>21</em> that Thomas finally broke the silence. “We broke up.”</p><p>“Yeah. Kind of figured that.”</p><p>
  <em>18…17…16.</em>
</p><p>“It was a long time ago,” Thomas said, even though Gally hadn’t asked. “It’s been like, almost four years.”</p><p>“Shit. Wow.”</p><p>
  <em>12…13…11.</em>
</p><p>“I saw him for the first time since then this weekend.”</p><p>Thomas wasn’t sure what was propelling all of this information out of him, to <em>Gally</em> nonetheless. A man he hadn’t seen since his college graduation, who probably did not care that he and Newt had broken up.</p><p>Politely, though, Gally asked, “Oh. How was that?”</p><p>The elevator beeped, the doors opening up in front of them. Thomas hesitated briefly before following Gally out and into the dark, beige-walled lobby. Even security had left the building by this point.</p><p>“Weird,” Thomas admitted. “You ever run into an ex?”</p><p>“I wasn’t friends with any of my exes like … you two.”</p><p>“Oh. I see what you mean.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>They stood awkwardly in the middle of the lobby, shifting their weight from foot to foot.</p><p>“I should go,” Thomas said at the same time Gally said, “So, it’s kind of late –”</p><p>Thomas laughed drily, still unnerved that he and Gally could laugh at things together. “Yeah. See you tomorrow, then.”</p><p>“See you tomorrow.”</p><p>“After that, we just kind of started waving to each other when we come in. Acknowledging each other during morning debriefings. He asks me for help, actually, almost as much as Jeff,” Thomas finishes the rest of the story to Teresa and Minho over their video chat, both of them staring wide-eyed at him over the screen.</p><p>“Oh my God,” Teresa says. “You’re <em>friends</em> with Gally.”</p><p>“I never fucking saw that coming.” Minho shakes his head. “If you had told me freshman year that <em>I’d</em> be the one married to <em>Teresa</em> and <em>you’d</em> be friends with <em>Gally</em>, I would’ve laughed so hard in your faces, I’d have burned calories.”</p><p>Thomas rolls his eyes. “Weirder things have happened.”</p><p>“Have they?” Teresa countered.</p><p>Thomas stares at her dubiously. “The nude beach?”</p><p>“We don’t speak of the nude beach!” The newly-weds exclaim at the same time. </p><p>But the memories still flood back to him and they spend the majority of their Friday night reliving them together, but their yawns become more frequent and Minho's head starts dropping on Teresa's shoulder for extended periods of time. They say goodnight to each other and Thomas hangs up the call, heading to his own bedroom and promptly passing out himself.</p><p>The next morning, Thomas wakes up and stretches in his bed, enjoying being able to sleep in for once. The sunlight spills in through the blinds and even though it’s summer, the weather hot and humid in D.C, he feels comfortable enough to sleep with a thick white comforter over his bare chest because of the air conditioning flowing through the apartment. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, not wanting to get up and be productive.</p><p>His phone vibrating next to him on the nightstand pulls him out of his hazy reverie. To his shock, he finds he has eleven unread texts from his friends, becoming worried that something awful might’ve happened.</p><p>
  <em>Sonya (4:12AM): THOMAS!!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sonya (4:12AM): Is it true???</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sonya (4:12AM): Are you really friends with Gally?!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sonya (6:30AM): Ugh, I forgot about the time difference. Call me when you wake up?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sonya (7:05AM): You better.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sonya (7:06AM): We still have to talk about reunion plans since the Vineyard isn’t happening!!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harriet (9:02M): Ummm… what’s this I’m hearing?!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harriet (9:03AM): You and Gally are BFFs now??</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harriet (9:03AM): I’m DEAD. I did not see this coming </em>
  <em>😂</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harriet (9:04AM): Also heard the Vineyard plans fell through. Boo :(</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Newt (10:29AM): So I guess Minho and Teresa found out Gally works at your office now?</em>
</p><p>Thomas rolls his eyes so hard, there’s a chance they might get stuck to the top of his head. On the other hand, he thinks, it might not have been so bad after all if something had happened to his friends.</p><p> </p><p>I.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t lied to Teresa and Minho when they’d asked if he had spoken to Newt since coming home from the wedding: he just flat-out didn’t answer their question and they hadn’t noticed.</p><p>He wasn’t exactly sure how to describe the current status between Newt and him, which was why he hadn’t felt like bringing it up.</p><p>Just the week prior, he had run into Newt unexpectedly in the middle of Capitol Hill, after leaving Tune Inn, a bar his coworkers had gone to after work. He had mainly gone for appearances sake, to continue quelling <em>any</em> rumors that he was having an affair with Ava freaking Paige. But because he wasn’t drinking these days, he had less of an interest in pursuing one night stands and even less of an interest being at a bar. He’d politely made his excuses to leave, disappointing his coworkers – even Gally – who’d tried to convince him to stay, and left the bar.</p><p>Promptly running into Newt, in the middle of Pennsylvania Ave, one of the most crowded parts of DC on a Friday night. They’d both stared at each other in thinly veiled shock, Newt recovering his senses first.</p><p>“Hi there.”</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Newt’s eyes darted between Thomas and the entrance to Tune Inn. “You, uh, running off somewhere?”</p><p>“Yeah. Was on my way home.” Thomas was barely able to form proper sentences. “You?”</p><p>Newt nodded his head at the taqueria behind them. “Meeting a friend from work for Mexican food.”</p><p>Thomas wasn’t sure what he would’ve said next – maybe something lame like, <em>nice, </em>or mortifying like, <em>sounds yummy </em>– when Gally popped out of the bar, holding Thomas's dark leather briefcase. “Thank God you didn’t get too far –”</p><p>The President of the United States could have been the one handing Thomas his forgotten briefcase and Newt wouldn’t have looked nearly as surprised. His eyes almost bugged out of his head, doing a double-take at Gally.</p><p>Gally didn’t do much better – he simply gawked back at Newt like <em>he</em> was the one who had unexpectedly run into his ex.</p><p>Thomas felt frozen for the second time that week, unable to comprehend his current reality, staring between the two of them. But he cleared his throat, forcing himself to blink after what must have been ten minutes of bewildered silence between the three of them. “Um. Gally, you remember Newt. Newt, Gally works at my office now.”</p><p>Newt’s eyes darted between the two of them. “Oh. Wow.”</p><p>“Hi.” Gally immediately looked to Thomas, his expression unsubtly reading, <em>Was that okay?</em></p><p>Thomas took his briefcase back. “Thank you for … well, this.”</p><p>“Yeah, no problem,” Gally said. He looked back at Newt. “Um, nice to see you.”</p><p>He shot Thomas another look, one that looked more like, <em>how awkward was that</em>?, before he headed back inside the bar. It crossed Thomas’s mind to follow Gally back in there, to make sure the other man didn’t go around telling his coworkers that Thomas had ditched them to meet up with his ex. But he had a feeling that Gally wouldn’t say anything, the same way he never told anyone about that night he helped Gally at the office.</p><p>Which still left Newt, standing shell-shocked in front of him.</p><p>“Weird, right?” Thomas asked, mostly to break the silence.</p><p>“We should catch up,” Newt said slowly. Still staring at the entrance as if he expected Gally to pop out and scream, <em>Boo! </em>“Text me. You know, if you ever want a cup of coffee.”</p><p>The problem was, Thomas still hasn’t texted him about that cup of coffee.</p><p>Trying to put off answering Newt’s text, Thomas goes into his kitchen, searching his fridge for food. His next problem is that he only has 1 egg left in the carton and a six-pack of beer. He can’t even make a bowl of cereal.</p><p><em>Now</em> would be an opportune time to text Newt back to ask him if he wanted to go get coffee (and maybe a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich so he doesn’t starve to death). But an invitation to breakfast could be perceived in too many different ways: maybe Newt would think Thomas wants to get back together and then back off, and then everything’s weird between all their friends again.</p><p>The right person to seek advice from would be Teresa, and while he loves his nosy and invasive friends, whatever is happening between him and Newt needs to stay between him and Newt until they finally figure it out. But he <em>does</em> need advice.</p><p>He goes through his contacts list, searching for a number he’s not even sure works anymore and presses “call,” before he has a chance to overthink.</p><p>
  <em>“Hello?”</em>
</p><p>Thomas rubs at his temple. “Hey. It’s me, Thomas. I have a question for you.”</p><p>
  <em>“Um, okay. Go ahead, Thomas.”</em>
</p><p>“If you dated someone for two years, and then they broke up with you and then ended up dating someone really soon after – with the <em>worst</em> name in the world, by the way – for an even longer time then they dated you, causing you guys not to speak for a really long time – like four years – up until this past weekend when, uh, you had a lot of sex with them,” Thomas starts, tapping his fingers on the black granite island top, “and you’re not sure if they’re sending you mixed signals, because you’re not even sure if you’re friends again, or if you’re just fuck buddies … would you ask them for a cup of coffee? Or does that seem like you’re trying to get back together?”</p><p>There’s a long pause at the other end of the line. Thomas waits patiently, starting to flip through his unopened mail piled up. Most of them are just bills he pays online.</p><p>
  <em>“Uh, Thomas? Do you know who you’re talking to?”</em>
</p><p>Thomas rolls his eyes, flicking his mail aside. “Yeah Frypan, I know … we’re not like best friends or anything, but we were friends in college, weren’t we?”</p><p>
  <em>“I mean, yeah… but you were also friends with all those girls too.”</em>
</p><p>“It’s not like I can talk to <em>them</em> about it. Sonya’s his sister and she had a crush on me junior year, so that’s all kinds of weird. Harriet’s his first ex, which is even more weird. And I can’t talk to Teresa because she’s married to Minho now.”</p><p>
  <em>“Is that a bad thing?”</em>
</p><p>“No, of course not. It’s just … well, Minho’s <em>his</em> best friend, right? And Teresa’s <em>my</em> best friend. I can’t get an impartial perspective from them.”</p><p><em>“Oh, I see.</em>” Frypan’s voice sounds less confused now. <em>“You just want someone who has no close connection to either you or Newt?”</em></p><p>“Exactly, Fry! You get it now.”</p><p>“<em>Sure, sure. I guess I’ll try to help. So, what happened again? When did y’all even break up?”</em></p><p> </p><p>II.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>December (four years prior)</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Can we talk?”</p><p>Thomas looked up, having been reading before bed. Newt was standing in the doorframe, still in his work clothes. He’d been home for hours, whereas Thomas had only gotten back a half an hour ago and was already ready to go to sleep.</p><p>“Sure,” Thomas said, putting aside the financial documents he’d been poring over.</p><p>Newt still didn’t move out of the doorframe. “We need to discuss what happens when you come back from London.”</p><p>“You’re not coming along,” Thomas said, unable to keep the slightly bitter edge out of his voice. “We see how things are when I get back.”</p><p>Once upon a time, it had been ‘fine’ if Newt had ended up liking his job and wanting to stay while Thomas relocated for a few months. But that was when they were naïve and not passive-aggressively fighting each week.</p><p>“I think we need to discuss how things are now,” Newt insisted, more forceful than usual. He sounded more tired than angry, though.</p><p>“How <em>are</em> things now, Newt?” Thomas asked, crossing his arms over his chest. To Thomas, things had been fine up until this morning when Newt picked a random fight over the groceries – apparently Thomas bought <em>too much</em> food. As if there were such a thing. As if Newt, himself, could even be bothered to go grocery shopping from time to time which Thomas had brought up and Newt had <em>not</em> appreciated it.</p><p>Newt just sighed. “Not good.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, maybe we need to be apart from each other for a little while,” Thomas said, his words near verbatim to the conversation he’d had with Newt a couple weeks ago when Newt decided he wasn’t going to London with Thomas and that 'distance would do them some good.'</p><p>“I think we just,” Newt started to say, before his voice got caught in his throat. He was having trouble meeting Thomas’s eyes.</p><p>The unspoken words lingered in the air between them. <em>I think we should break up.</em></p><p>Thomas would have been a fool to say he had not seen this coming. It would have been a lie if he had pretended not to know where this conversation was going the minute Newt asked, <em>can we talk?</em></p><p>So he stands up, rubbing at his temples. “Really? You’re doing this <em>now</em>?”</p><p>“Thomas ­–”</p><p>“Two weeks, <em>Isaac</em>.” Thomas paced around at the foot of the bed. “Two weeks until I leave and you choose now?”</p><p>“Because I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to fight with you all the time.”</p><p>“If I remember correctly, <em>you</em> started the fight this morning.” And maybe it hadn’t been so random, after all.</p><p>“Aren’t you tired of this, too?” Newt asked. “A relationship isn’t supposed to be this hard.”</p><p>There might have been some hidden question in there. <em>When did things get this hard between you and me, the two people who should have been the ones to make it? </em></p><p>But Thomas supposed every couple must have thought that during the honeymoon phase of their relationships, that they were the golden couple.</p><p>“You’re supposed to fight for it,” Thomas said, with his back towards the door, frowning at the walls. “If that’s what you really want. Every relationship gets hard.”</p><p>“Not <em>this</em> hard.”</p><p>“Then I’ll stay. I won’t go to London.”</p><p>“No, Thomas, you can’t do that.”</p><p>The anger chipped away at his heart, leaving behind a cold and empty feeling in his bones. “I’m an adult. I can make my own choices and if staying here is what’s best for us, then I’ll stay.”</p><p>Newt just shook his head. Despite the overwhelming pinching feeling in his gut, Thomas pushed. “I’ll stay. We can fix this.”</p><p>“We can’t fix this.” Newt kept shaking his head.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“We’re just kidding ourselves, pretending we feel the same way we did about each other back in university –”</p><p>“If two people truly love each other, then they love each other through the hardest and worst parts.” Thomas argued. That was all they ever did anymore.</p><p>But Newt’s silence confirmed what Thomas just didn’t want to accept. <em>He didn’t love him anymore.</em></p><p>It hit him like an anchor, dragging down a little wooden lifeboat to the bottom of the vast, cold, dark sea. Somewhere in the midst of all their petty fights and long nights spent anywhere but at the apartment with each other, Newt had stopped being in love with him.</p><p>Thomas asked quietly, “Is there someone else?”</p><p>Newt finally looked up at him. “What?”</p><p>“Is there someone else?”</p><p>“I … I don’t know what there is, Thomas,” Newt stammered. “It’s not… I’m not in love with someone else, I’m just … I’m confused.”</p><p>But he wasn’t confused about this. He wasn’t confused about what to do when Thomas came back from London, because as far as he was concerned there was no future for them.</p><p>“It’s not like I … I never, ever pursued someone while we were together.” And just like that, they were already something of the past for Newt. “But … Thomas, I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Okay,” Thomas heard himself saying. He felt like he was watching himself being broken up with by Newt, from an outside body.</p><p>“Thomas, I swear I’m sorry.”</p><p>Thomas shrugged, robotically moving his muscles even if he couldn’t feel his body. “You’re not in love with someone else, you’re just not in love with me. Okay.”</p><p>Newt kept saying he was sorry, that he never wanted this to happen, but Thomas could only sit down at the foot of their bed. Words were white noise in the background of a movie he no longer wanted to be in. Breathing was a concentrated effort, <em>inhale then exhale. Inhale than exhale.</em></p><p>He eventually stood up, in the middle of Newt’s sentence, not even registering what he was saying. His body took him towards the kitchen on auto-pilot, where in the dark he reached for a wine glass and generously poured himself whiskey.</p><p>Newt stood at the doorframe from the living room and kitchen. “It might be best if I move out. I’ll take the time to look for apartments while you’re…”</p><p>His voice trailed off. Thomas knew the word he was holding back from saying, but continued drinking instead of adding to the conversation. It was over. They were over.</p><p>Thomas would leave for London in a couple of awkward weeks. Thomas would come back from London to an empty apartment.</p><p>Two weeks. If Newt had given him two weeks, he could have fixed this.</p><p>Newt tried to say something more, about staying with a coworker for a little while, but all Thomas could do was stare at the snow falling outside of their apartment, feeling like the chill had seeped through the windows and into his bones. And no matter how much he drank, the fiery liquid would never quite be enough to warm him up.</p><p> </p><p>III.</p><p> </p><p>“I think the week I got to London I found he started seeing someone new – not even a week after we broke up,” Thomas finishes with a heavy sigh. “I never asked more about it. I barely talked to Minho after the break-up and I kind of fell out of touch with Harriet when I didn’t go to her nursing school graduation because I didn’t want to run into Newt and the new boyfriend. Well, not new at that point, but you get what I mean. Then last weekend ­–”</p><p><em>“You had a lot of sex?”</em> Frypan guesses.</p><p>Thomas has the decency to blush, even though it doesn’t matter much over the phone. “We just didn’t tell anyone else about it. I think we were both were on the same page that it … would complicate things.”</p><p>
  <em>“Ah. So why did he and Arthur break up?”</em>
</p><p>Thomas frowns. “That’s it? That’s all you got out of <em>all </em>of that?”</p><p>
  <em>“Well, yeah. You’re saying he and Arthur started dating less than a week after you broke up –”</em>
</p><p>“That might be an exaggeration. Maybe it was like, a week and a half later.” </p><p>“<em>Anyways, he and Arthur break up right before the wedding, and then y’all start hooking up again … are you not seeing a pattern here?”</em></p><p>Thomas sees more of a yo-yo than anything, which doesn’t give him the clarity he’s looking for. It seems like Frypan is pointing out Newt’s outstanding ability to move on faster than his former lovers but it doesn’t answer his question on if Thomas should text him about getting coffee.</p><p>“I don’t know why they broke up.”</p><p>
  <em>“Man, y’all did everything under the sun but talk to each other!”</em>
</p><p>“Well … we talked about <em>some</em> things.”</p><p>
  <em>“Like what?”</em>
</p><p>“He invited me to an art show he’s curating at his job, something he’s been excited about since he first started working there all those years ago.”</p><p>“<em>And he was the one who suggested you guys catch up over coffee? He was the one who reached out to you this morning?”</em></p><p>“Well. Yeah.”</p><p>Thomas can see Frypan rolling his eyes at him. <em>“Then why are you freaking out? If anything, it comes across as he wants to get back together with you. You should figure out how you feel about that instead of worrying what he’ll think of you.”</em></p><p>It’s as if the power in Thomas’s apartment had gone out, and suddenly a lightbulb flickered on in the middle of his living room. He sits up, musing that thought over. “Huh. That’s some pretty good advice, actually.”</p><p>“<em>And?”</em></p><p><em>“</em>… thank you?”</p><p>
  <em>“No, fool! Do you?”</em>
</p><p>“Do I what?”</p><p>
  <em>“Jesus, Thomas. Do you want to get back together with him?"</em>
</p><p>Thomas would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, but also – he <em>hadn’t</em> thought about it. Physically, he’s still very attracted to Newt but Frypan’s kind of picking up on something; they don’t really know how to talk to each other anymore. </p><p>“It’s been a long time. It’s been four fucking years. Almost the same amount of time since I’ve seen you,” Thomas says. If avoiding answering a question was an Olympic sport, he could go for gold.</p><p>Thomas can see Frypan rolling his eyes again. <em>“Thomas, I saw you last weekend.”</em></p><p>He remembers. Remembers the catering mix-up that he almost blamed Frypan for before Newt found other ways to … distract him.</p><p>“Oh yeah! Man, the wedding was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Thomas exclaims as if the memory has just come back to him. He knows it makes him sound like a forgetful asshole, he knows.</p><p>But he also thinks that Frypan <em>knows</em> Thomas wouldn’t have just picked any number out of the blue, choosing to call just <em>anyone</em> from college.</p><p>Once they’ve hung up, he looks over his message thread, Newt’s last text still unanswered. His stomach grumbles, a reminder his fridge is still empty.</p><p>
  <em>Indeed, they did. How about that cup of coffee?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>IV.</p><p>
  <em>July</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thomas slaps the skin on his arm for the fortieth time that night, where he’s sure by tomorrow morning there will be large swollen mosquito bites. He hates spending the fourth of July outside, thinks it’s an absolute waste of time. Summer in D.C is torturous and the air is stifling yet he decided to leave the haven of his apartment for a lousy display of fireworks.</p><p>That he could’ve watched from his TV. Or even his own private balcony, where at least he wouldn’t be surrounded by insufferable children screaming and running around.</p><p>But Gally and Jeff had urged him to come to Nationals Park, where some other people from their office were gathered to barbecue and light up sparklers. He told them no about ten times but the two of them were relentless in making sure he didn’t isolate himself inside all night.</p><p>One evening, a rare Tuesday after work when Thomas got out of the office before it was completely dark outside, he was having dinner with Newt at a restaurant overlooking the Potomac, between both their neighborhoods. He’d brought up how ridiculous it was they expected him to watch the fireworks outside when Newt frowned.</p><p>“I thought you liked fireworks,” Newt said. “Remember when we watched them from the park in Anacostia?”</p><p>Thomas shrugged. “You liked the fireworks.”</p><p>“You didn’t?”</p><p>“We could’ve easily watched them from home and it would’ve been the same experience.”</p><p>“No, it wouldn’t have and you know it. How can you not like fireworks?”</p><p>“I never said I <em>didn’t</em> like fireworks. I just don’t like watching fireworks outside.”</p><p>Ever since Thomas had finally reached out to him about catching up over coffee, some of the leftover ice still between them had started to melt. They weren’t any closer to having <em>the talk</em>, but they at least talked when they were together. About Newt’s relationship with his parents, about Thomas’s own parents’ getting married, about their friends, about work.</p><p>It was easier to have conversations with each other, Thomas suspected, when he wasn’t so worried about thinking about the elephant in the room: <em>Arthur</em>. That was the one thing Thomas refused to even hint at, or bring up. He was still trying to figure out his feelings about Newt, and their friendship, and what could be their future and Arthur was the last person he wanted involved in that decision.</p><p> “I’ll even go with you,” Newt had said back at the restaurant, as if he were doing him a favor by suggesting such a thing. “So you have a good time.”</p><p>“Oh please,” Thomas bantered back. “You have a high opinion of yourself.”</p><p>Newt grinned. “Are you trying to say you don’t have a good time with me? Well, that hurts my feelings.”</p><p>And that was how Thomas had ended up here, at the park instead of at home watching the fireworks. It was all weird; flirting but not flirting with his ex-boyfriend, who had also been his best friend.</p><p>He didn’t know how to describe his relationship with Newt to his colleagues, so he didn’t. He introduced him just as, “Newt, this is Jeff, that’s Mary, that’s Lawrence, that’s Mark, that’s Rose, and oh. Um, that’s Gally.”</p><p>Gally and Newt shook hands rather stiffly, as if they were waiting for the other to start swinging. Thankfully, only Thomas picked up on any tension between them while everyone else went back to chatting and eating.</p><p>In line for the hot dogs and hamburgers, Gally murmured under his breath, “So is it still weird running into an ex?”</p><p>Thomas sighed. “More than you’ll ever know.”</p><p>But he can’t deny that he’s actually having a bit of fun tonight, even if he’s being eaten alive by mosquitos left and right. He’s still on his no drinking cleanse, but Newt keeps true to his word: if Thomas yawns or even so much as blinks for a longer period of time than deemed acceptable, Newt entertains him. He nearly takes out one of Thomas’s eyes when flinging a horseshoe but it’s not the <em>worst</em> thing in the world. They lose horrendously at a game of beer pong (Thomas substituting beer with water) but it reminds Thomas of college so he doesn’t hate it too much.</p><p>Newt even gets them to play freeze tag with a group of kids and though Thomas claims he’d rather choke, he gets a little <em>too</em> into the game and pushes the brat who keeps running after him, trying to freeze him, to the ground.</p><p>“You can’t say you’re not having fun,” Newt insists once the kid’s mother has finished scolding Thomas. They’ve taken to sitting on the grass, as Newt sips from his beer and Thomas holds his plastic bottle of water.</p><p>Thomas shrugs, trying to keep coy. “When do the dreaded fireworks start anyways?”</p><p>Newt just laughs. “Soon enough.”</p><p>Later on, the field gets more and more crowded as families start settling down for the show to begin. Jeff and Gally find them, surprised that they managed to find such a coveted spot.</p><p>“Yo, the view will be nice from here,” Jeff exclaims once they’ve sat down next to Newt and Thomas.</p><p>“If we don’t get eaten alive first,” Thomas mutters under his breath, graciously taking another plastic water bottle from Gally.</p><p>Jeff overhears him anyways. He grins in a way that makes Thomas wary as he turns to Newt, “So. You two met in college?”</p><p>Thomas frowns. “How do you know that?”</p><p>Jeff nods to Gally, who gives him an apologetic shrug. “Was Thomas always a player? Even back then?”</p><p>“A player?” Newt asks surprised. Just as surprised as Thomas, who snorts the water he’d been drinking out of his nose.</p><p>Jeff cackles, while Gally freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. He stares between Newt and Thomas, as if <em>he’s</em> the one trying to navigate his awkward relationship with his ex.</p><p>“I don’t suppose he was,” Newt says slowly after a moment. Meanwhile Thomas wants to bury himself alive in the grass, even though he should be defending his reputation. He’s not a player. He’s <em>selective.</em></p><p>But before Jeff can reveal Thomas’s string of one-night encounters, Gally blurts out, “Jeff, tell us about your girlfriend.”</p><p>Jeff frowns. “Gally, why don’t you tell us about <em>your</em> girlfriend –”</p><p>“No, I think we want to hear about <em>your</em> girlfriend –”</p><p>Newt and Thomas watch the two of them like a tennis match.</p><p>“Oh, come on bro, tell us. Tell us about your girlfriend.”</p><p>“Do you suppose he has a girlfriend?” Newt asks Thomas. But Thomas barely hears him, his blood roaring after feeling Newt’s warm breath tickle his neck.</p><p>He turns to him, ready to ask him something dumb like, <em>huh, </em>when he notices how dark Newt’s eyes are, even against the growing night sky. They’re closer than he’d expected they’d be, Newt having leaned closer to Thomas’s shoulder to whisper in his ear. Jeff and Gally are still arguing about something, Thomas can’t even remember, but neither he nor Newt have pulled away just yet.</p><p> <em>If anything, it comes across as he wants to get back together with you. You should figure out how you feel about that instead of worrying what he’ll think of you.</em></p><p>Thomas pulls back suddenly, clearing his throat as he jumps up. “I’ve gotta run to the bathroom. Be back.”</p><p>“Do you even know where a bathroom is?” He vaguely hears Jeff call after him, but Thomas keeps walking, making his way through the maze of picnic blankets and families spread out on the gross.</p><p>He doesn’t need a bathroom, but Jeff didn’t need to know that. He just needs to walk around for a moment, collecting his thoughts before going back to his friends and watching the fireworks. His head is swimming with thoughts but he can’t quite pin what he’s feeling. He’s been single for four years, Newt’s been single for less than four weeks.</p><p>He waits until his heart has stopped racing before deciding to go back, trying to find his way back to his friends. He makes sure there’s a little bit of space between him and Newt, who’s laughing and smiling with Jeff and Gally as if nothing had happened.</p><p>And perhaps, nothing had.</p><p>The fireworks explode in bright, vivid colors and people applaud and cheer. Splashes of blues and reds and greens streak across the night sky, followed by thunderous booms. His friends around him are enthralled by the display, smiling at him, at each other after each display of light.</p><p>So he holds his tongue back and watches them, rather than the fiery spectacle above. Refrains from telling them they could’ve just watched something like on YouTube.</p><p> </p><p>V.</p><p> </p><p>Thomas hadn’t been trying to be a dick when he’d told Newt traveling to Strathmore was kinda far. But the lack of disappointment on Newt’s face, as if he’d expected Thomas to say he wouldn’t come, had wounded his pride. He used to think of himself as a good friend; one who showed up when they needed him.</p><p>But he hadn’t even gone to Harriet’s nursing school graduation ceremony. Hadn’t even apologized to her for that, at the wedding, when he should’ve.</p><p>So when the clock strikes five on the afternoon of Newt’s curated art show, Thomas signs off early for once, not bothering to give his colleagues a proper explanation for why he was leaving “on time.” Late July was a quiet time in the financial world and most people left on time on Friday evenings anyways.</p><p>He takes the red line from Union Station, transferring to a bus that lets him off about 10 minutes away from the Strathmore. By the time he gets there, he’s <em>just</em> made it. Barely three minutes before the show is set to start.</p><p>He’d been to the Strathmore quite a lot when they’d first moved down to D.C and Newt had to work a lot of the weddings, concerts, and social events that transpired there. He hadn’t been so much lately, almost forgetting how beautiful the space was when the sunset hit the glass windows just right. It’s a stunning space filled with windows, tilted at a funny angle overlooking the greenery just outside the building.</p><p>Thomas walks up the stairs, winded by the time he’s gotten to the entrance. He checks his watch, debating if it’s too late to turn back. He doesn’t know anyone besides Newt here, who’s hosting the event. He should’ve brought a work friend, but his only work friends are Gally and Jeff. Two people he would never have considered would be his work friends.</p><p>Thomas enters the building, despite his reservations. The lobby is flooded with golden light hanging from the chandeliers, people dressed in black tie all around. He’s thankful he hadn’t stopped at home to change, clearing his throat to adjust the blue tie around his neck.</p><p>Newt spots him before Thomas has a chance to even look around for him. His face lights in surprise. “You actually came.”</p><p>Thomas tugs at his collar again, with a small smile. “Yeah. Congrats on the show, by the way.”</p><p>Thomas has never seen Newt in a black and white suit before, his blond hair brushed back and out of his eyes. It looks good on him, <em>very</em> good, and Thomas considers telling him that but finds his throat to be insatiably dry.</p><p>But because Thomas is so focused on Newt’s outfit, he doesn’t look for the nervousness flickering through Newt’s eyes.</p><p>“Thank you.” Newt clears his throat and turns to the rest of the crowd. “I’m so glad you’re here tonight. Otherwise, I don’t know if I could have gone through with this.”</p><p>“Hm?” Thomas asks, trying not to ogle Newt’s suit. He’s seen many handsome blond men in suits before – even spent the night at their apartments after nights full of liquor and casual flirting. But Newt looks <em>very </em>good tonight, just like he did during the wedding.</p><p>“Arthur’s here,” Newt says, effectively breaking Thomas out of his reverie. “So it’s just nice to have a friend around.”</p><p>Thomas’s voice raises an octave. <em>“What?”</em></p><p>Newt points to a dark-haired gentleman on the other side of the lobby, his blue eyes bright with mirth as he conversed some of the guests. He was tall, Thomas could gather, perhaps even taller than Newt.</p><p>Thomas just blinks, as if that will make the attractive man disappear. “What’s he doing here?”</p><p>“He used to work here a few years ago,” Newt says, smiling politely to the people they pass making their way to the main concert hall. “He’s still friends with many of the people here.”</p><p>“He was your coworker?” Thomas asks, thinking back to a freezing night in December.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Newt tense. “Not … <em>that</em> coworker. But yes. This is where we met.”</p><p>Before Thomas can ask any questions, something like <em>why the hell would you invite <span class="u">me</span> here then?!</em>, Newt breaks away and steps onto the stage. The hall is bathed in gold, bright lights filling the entire space and people occupying almost all the chairs. If he could process any emotion other than shock at the moment, Thomas would be beaming with pride.</p><p>Newt stands tall in front of them, confidence dripping from his smile. “Hello, everyone. I’m Isaac Newton and I just wanted to thank you all for coming to my show tonight.”</p><p>A pretty brunette next to Thomas swoons, fanning her hand over her face as she whispers to her friend, “Oh my God. He’s British.”</p><p>“I wanted to start off tonight with a special musical interlude to set the tone for the show,” Newt continues. Behind him, a band preps their instruments on stage, the lead guitarist nodding to Newt. “Please welcome my good friends, Dove City!”</p><p>The rest of the night seems to be a complete success for Newt, or so Thomas thinks. He’d never been to an art show before, but Newt kills it after the live show, when all of the guests approach him for questions about the installations.</p><p>Thomas, himself, gets lost in the crowd, not wanting to hover too close by. The caterers keep walking by him, their trays full of champagne flutes that he politely declines. He could stop his cleanse at any time, but he’s begun to stop craving the taste of liquor so badly. He feels good about it. Like if he were to take one of those champagne flutes, he could hold himself back to just a couple, and not find the nearest bar afterwards to drown the rest of his night in his whiskey.</p><p>“You must be Thomas.”</p><p>Thomas is a little startled to hear someone that knows his name, turning around to the voice in question. And it’s <em>him</em>. The tall, dark-haired gentleman with bright blue eyes that Newt had pointed out to him earlier.</p><p>Thomas manages to find his voice. “Oh. Hello.”</p><p>“Newt used to talk a lot about you,” Arthur explains, extending his hand. Thomas feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience, watching himself reach out and shake hands. “My name is Arthur Cornwall.”</p><p>Thomas is still reeling in shock, but Arthur’s accent seems to bring him back to reality. “Are you also from London?”</p><p>“No, farther South. I’m from Brighton.”</p><p>“Oh,” Thomas says. “That sounds very nice.”</p><p>He has to physically shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out at the next caterer walking by with champagne.</p><p>“It’s a nice show,” Arthur says, even though Thomas can’t understand why he’d linger around talking to <em>his</em> ex’s ex. “He really outdid himself, didn’t he?”</p><p>Thomas just nods, his entire body frozen. “Yeah. Really great.”</p><p>He could just run away and not look back. He could just walk away. There’s no reason he has to stay and talk to Newt’s ex.</p><p>But there was also no reason for Arthur to be friendly with him, perhaps having noticed Thomas standing all by himself.</p><p>“You used to work here?” Thomas dares to ask.</p><p>“Yeah, for a few years. But the work wasn’t entirely what I wanted anymore. I wanted to be working in corporate events’ and this company reached out to me, offering a great position with great benefits. I was sad to say goodbye to all my friends here, but you know how it is. Sometimes you have to follow your gut.”</p><p>Thomas feels his stomach twist into a thousand knots. “Yeah. I see what you mean.”</p><p>Arthur turns to him, maybe to ask him another question, when someone calls his name. Arthur raises his hand and smiles at them, before clapping Thomas on the shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Thomas. Will you tell Newt that his show was really lovely?”</p><p>Thomas’s eyes flicker towards the blond at the front of the room. “Are you leaving already?”</p><p>His voice trails off. Arthur follows his gaze and sighs. “It’s probably for the best. It was a lovely show, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Goodbye, Thomas.”</p><p>Thomas tears his eyes away from Newt, but Arthur’s already gone. “Bye.”</p><p>Later in the evening, Newt finds him by the refreshments table, staring mournfully at the empty tray of cheese and crackers. “Thank you for staying so long. I know you must be bored.”</p><p>Thomas shakes his head. “No, it’s cool. How’d it go? In your eyes.”</p><p>Newt sweeps the conference hall, where only a few stragglers remain. Even the caterers and their champagne trays had disappeared. “I think it went well. At least I hope so.”</p><p>Thomas nods. “Arthur thought it was lovely, by the way.”</p><p>Newt snaps his head to him. “What?”</p><p>“He came up to me. Wanted me to tell you that he thought it was lovely because he had to head out early.”</p><p>“Huh,” Newt murmurs, mostly to himself. “He came up to you?”</p><p>“Weird, right?” Thomas frowns. “I mean he’s nice and all but…that was pretty weird.”</p><p>He bends down to pick up a fallen napkin, missing the look in Newt’s eyes as he watches him. Trying to figure out what to make of Arthur’s actions in light of everything he’d been realizing over the past couple of months.</p><p>“Did I ever tell you why?” Newt blurts out, before he can stop himself. <em>Why Arthur and I broke up?</em></p><p>Thomas stands back up straight, discarding the fallen napkin on the table. “Why what?”</p><p> </p><p>VI.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Late June (1 month ago)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You broke up with <em>him</em> for him, and then you broke up with him for <em>him</em>?”</p><p>Newt rolled his eyes. “You make me sound indecisive.”</p><p>“You changed your major <em>four</em> times in college,” Minho reminded him. “You are the most indecisive person I know.”</p><p>Per the bride-to-be’s orders, they were making themselves as scarce as possible so she could handle the last minute details of the ceremony the next day. Minho took that to mean they should hide in Newt’s hotel room playing video games.</p><p>“I never broke up with Thomas <em>for</em> Arthur,” Newt said. “And I never said I broke up with Arthur <em>for</em> Thomas.”</p><p>“So what exactly are you saying?” Minho asked, shutting off his controller and looking to Newt.</p><p>Newt sighed loudly, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Last month, we were talking –”</p><p>“You and Thomas?”</p><p>“No. Me and Arthur.” Newt cut him a look for interrupting. “We were just talking about where we would go if we could go anywhere in the world. And his plans seemed so … sure. You know? Like he would say, <em>we’ll</em> go to the Bahamas. <em>We’ll</em> go to Tahiti. <em>We’ll</em> go here or there, like he’s thought about it. And I realized I don’t … well, I don’t think about him in my future.”</p><p>“Whoa.”</p><p>“Does that make me a horrible person?”</p><p>Minho shook his head. “Why would that make you a horrible person?”</p><p>“Because when I think of my future, I see the six of us all … together, like in college. It sounds bloody ridiculous, to be so hung up on the past.”</p><p>Minho gave him a suspicious grin. “Six of us, like with Thomas included?”</p><p>Newt rolled his eyes. “Well, he’s a part of the six of us, is he not?”</p><p>“So you broke up with Arthur because of Thomas?”</p><p>“Are you not listening to me? I broke up with him because I don’t see him in my future.”</p><p>“Because you see <em>Thomas</em> in your future.”</p><p>“In <em>our</em> future. And I see the rest of you guys there, too.”</p><p>“What really happened last night with you two?” Minho asked, leaning his head on his palm like they were two tween girls gossiping.</p><p>Newt tried not to blush as the night before came back to him. “I told you. We got tired and came back to the hotel.”</p><p>Minho narrowed his eyes, but thankfully didn’t press him any further. “Well, you somehow got Thomas to talk to you for the first time in four years. And hang out with the rest of us like we all did back in college. Maybe your dream is coming true.”</p><p>“It’s my fault all of that happened in the first place.” Newt sighed.</p><p>“It’s not your fault that Thomas made his own decisions.”</p><p>“Would you come hang out with your mates and your ex’s new boyfriend? Remember your high school girlfriend, Suzy? When she got that new boyfriend?”</p><p>Minho scrunched his face. “Why are you bringing that up?”</p><p>“Because you wouldn’t have wanted to hang around her with him around.”</p><p>“Have it your way. We weren’t friends like you and Thomas were.” Minho sighed, but his signature smirk came back. “You two getting back together would be really cute, though. You just can’t do it at the wedding.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You can’t take Teresa’s thunder at all.” Minho shook his head. “Not on her wedding weekend. She would kill you.”</p><p>Newt dramatically rolled his eyes. “What makes you think Thomas and I are getting back together? Who says we even feel that way about each other?”</p><p>“Well. How do <em>you</em> feel?”</p><p>Newt frowned. He didn’t think it wise to go down this path with Thomas again, not if they had a real shot at becoming friends again and reconnecting their splintered group. But he couldn’t deny that he’d felt something last night in bed that made him excited and kept him blushing all morning, even after Thomas had left his room in a hurry.</p><p>Even his toes curled in his shoes, thinking about it.</p><p>“If you’re not sure of your feelings, then you should be careful.” Minho leaned back into the foot of the bed, picking up his controller. “For you, Newt. You went through a lot too, okay? You’re not a horrible person, you’re not a shank. You’re just a human who has messy human emotions.”</p><p>Newt smiled softly. “Thanks, Minho.”</p><p>“No problem, shank. Now ready for me to whip your ass all over again in Mario Kart?”</p><p> </p><p>VII.</p><p> </p><p>Thomas is still looking at him expectantly.</p><p>“Why I chose the band,” Newt ends up saying. “Dove City. They’re, um, a parody of –”</p><p>“Owl City. Your favorite band,” Thomas remembers. “Yeah you must have told me.”</p><p>And in that moment, Newt’s <em>finally</em> sure that he’s been sure about his feelings for a while now.</p><p> </p><p>VIII.</p><p>
  <em>Late August</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Dude, you’re kidding me right?” Gally exclaims. “You’re not seriously considering staying?”</p><p>Ever since the fourth of July, Thomas and Gally had become friendlier towards each other. To the point where Thomas had been to the other man’s apartment with Jeff for dinner on multiple occasions, where they even had each other’s numbers saved in their phones. Where Gally was currently sitting in Thomas’s office with Jeff, both staring at him as if he’d announced he was planning on giving birth sometime soon.</p><p>“Do you <em>want</em> me to leave?” Thomas banters.</p><p>Gally just gives him a look. “There are positions open at the <em>World Bank</em> and the <em>Department of Treasury</em> that you’re not applying for, and for what? To stay here?”</p><p>“Man, I gotta go with Gally on this one.” Jeff says that like he doesn’t already agree with Gally on <em>everything</em>. “Why stay here? Wasn’t it always your dream or something to work at the World Bank?”</p><p>“Yeah, past tense.” Thomas sighs. “Look guys, I never even went to grad school.”</p><p>“And look where you are now!” Jeff says, trying to be helpful.</p><p>“Exactly, Jeff.” Thomas swivels around his chair so that he faces both his friends and the view outside. His office has floor-to-ceiling windows on the 45<sup>th</sup> floor, where he can see the perfect skyline of downtown DC. There’s nothing better than this view at sunset, when the sky was painted in different colors and the rest of the city looked magical underneath it. “I leave this office, I have to start all over. Work my way back up to the top again.”</p><p>From the corner of his eye, he can see Jeff and Gally rolling their eyes at each other. “Dude, you’re the smartest guy I know. You’ll work your way up to the top in no time, the same way you impressed Paige.”</p><p>Thomas is sure Paige wouldn’t be too impressed with him right now, neglecting his budget deadlines in favor of gossiping with his coworkers. But it’s Friday afternoon and it's also Thomas’s birthday weekend. His best friends were all coming to the city that evening to celebrate him, the first time in four years that all six of them had celebrated one of their birthdays together. He’s too excited to carefully pay attention to this company-wide budget report, therefore he made the intellectual decision not to pay attention to it at all.</p><p>“I don’t know. I like my job –”</p><p>Jeff shakes his head. “Bro, you know you don’t like your job.”</p><p>“Okay, I like <em>you guys</em>,” Thomas amends. “And you know what, fuck it. I like my paycheck. I go to the World Bank and I’d get paid shit to do a fuckload of hours.”</p><p>“Have you talked to Newt about this?”</p><p>Thomas turns, frowning at Gally. “What?”</p><p>“Newt moved down here with you after college when this was your whole dream,” Gally reminds him. “I’m sure he has some perspective on what you should do.”</p><p>Thomas’s frown only deepens. Sure, he and Newt were in a much better place than they were six months ago, but Newt’s still his ex at the end of the day. Should exes be able to weigh in on decisions like these?</p><p>“Look take some time to think about it,” Jeff suggests. “We’ll celebrate your birthday at the club this weekend, you’ll see all your friends, we’ll hook you up with a fine ass stranger –”</p><p>“I’m turning 28, Jeff,” Thomas tells him, though he’s chuckling. “I think I need to lay off ‘fine ass strangers’ for one night and pretend they don’t exist the next day.”</p><p>Jeff just turns to Gally, shaking his head. “I don’t know this man. Never seen him before in my life.”</p><p>Thomas clocks out around 5pm, the second time on a Friday night he's gotten out of the office on time within two months, despite not having finished his budget reports or sorting through the incoming applications for the fall interns. He, Jeff, and Gally take the train back to his apartment where he’s expecting Teresa and Minho to be waiting for him.</p><p>But once the three of them walk in, everyone’s there and everyone’s holding up balloons and flutes of champagne. “Happy birthday, Thomas!”</p><p>Thomas beams at his beautiful friends – Minho, Teresa, Sonya, Harriet, Newt, Brenda, Alby, and even Frypan – even though his birthday is technically the next day, on Saturday. He croons, “You guys!”</p><p>He drops his briefcase by the door and rushes forward to hug each and every one of them. Including Newt. </p><p>Behind him, Alby claps Gally on his shoulder. “What’s up, my guy? How you been?”</p><p>“We wanted to surprise you!” Teresa explains and puts a plastic party hat on his head. “We ordered food to come later, because you have <em>nothing</em> in your fridge. What is wrong with you?”</p><p>“Thomas, take a selfie with me,” Sonya tells him, pressing their faces together as she snaps a ton of photos together of them on her phone.</p><p>“No Thomas has to come take his birthday shots,” Minho demands, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt.</p><p>“Wait.” Harriet holds her hand up. “Are you sure you want to be drinking again?”</p><p>When he found out all his friends were coming to the city to celebrate him, Thomas decided to halt his no drinking cleanse. “Only in moderation,” he explains. “Besides we’re fucking celebrating tonight!”</p><p>Minho wants him to take twenty-eight shots of tequila and Thomas thinks that Minho wants to kill him. They come to a compromise – that <em>everyone</em> has to take a shot and then a couple more after the food gets there, before they head out to the club.</p><p>Harriet and Sonya put on a playlist of everyone’s favorite songs, blasting them through the new speakers Thomas bought a couple weeks ago. His neighbors’ probably hate him but his lease is up at the end of next month and he hasn’t decided if he’s staying or moving yet.</p><p>Brenda pulls him aside quickly. “Alby told me not to tell you yet, but I have to.”</p><p>“You’re pregnant?”</p><p>Brenda frowns at him and smacks him upside the head. “No. There’s a job opening with my firm. That I think you’d be perfect for.”</p><p>Now Thomas frowns, ignoring the dull ache in the back of his head. “What?”</p><p>“You’d be a personal financial advisor to the CEO.” She drops her voice to a whisper, cracking a grin at him. “It’s major fucking money, and guess what? They’ll pay for you to go to grad school.”</p><p>“Wow,” Thomas breathes out. “I mean – it’s New York, though.”</p><p>“No, it’s here in DC! That’s what even better. You wouldn’t even have to move.”</p><p>In the corner of his living room, Gally and Jeff are talking to Alby, Newt, and Minho, as if college never happened. They’re all holding cans of beer – though Thomas has absolutely no idea where those came from, since his fridge had been devoid of alcohol for two months – acting cordial to each other. He never expected to make friends with his coworkers, he’d only wanted to impress Paige and do his work. But the thought of leaving them doesn’t settle right in his stomach.</p><p>He decides to blame the tequila.</p><p>He tells Brenda he’ll think about it, though he doesn’t really expect to think about it later but she accepts his non-answer and goes to talk to Teresa.</p><p>“So,” Frypan says, suddenly right next to him. “What ended up happening about that … situation, you called me about?”</p><p>Thomas adjusted the collar on his shirt, clearing his throat. “I don’t know. Did I tell you I met Arthur?”</p><p>“You did? What happened?”</p><p>Thomas tells him about the night of Newt’s curated art show and how his most recent ex had come up to Thomas, introducing himself and telling him to send his best wishes to Newt. “Weird, right? Like why come up to <em>me, </em>when Newt had a ton of other coworkers there?”</p><p>“Did you ever figure out why they broke up?”</p><p>Thomas shakes his head. “No, I never really asked.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because I don’t think it’s my business to know,” Thomas tells him. “That’s their business and their past with each other. I feel like if Newt and I are to be real friends again, we have to look forward.”</p><p>Frypan gives him a look. “And do you want to be <em>just</em> friends?”</p><p>Thomas was never good at lying, but he’d gotten pretty good at pretending. Pretending that he didn’t notice Newt’s crooked grin or how there was a certain twinkle in his soft brown eyes that gleamed when he was feeling extra mischievous. Pretending that he didn’t purposefully try to sit closer to Newt whenever they got dinner with either of their coworkers, or that he didn’t think about Newt after he’d left.</p><p>“Are you still hurt about it?” Frypan asks softly when Thomas takes a while to respond. And somehow Thomas already knows what he’s talking about. “It’s okay if you are.”</p><p>
  <em>Are you still hurt that he broke up with you? Then found someone else shortly after, who made him happy when you couldn’t?</em>
</p><p>“No,” Thomas hears himself saying, even more surprised to realize it was true.</p><p>Frypan chuckles to himself. “Then I think you already know how you feel about just being friends.”</p><p>Thomas disagreed; in that particular moment, he wasn’t quite sure what he felt. He was confused about his job, he wasn’t acknowledging how stressed he was about potentially having to find a new apartment, but he was happy that his friends were there. And the burn of that single shot of tequila was sloshing around in his mind somewhere in between all of that.</p><p>It wasn’t until after the food had arrived – Teresa had taken it upon herself to order platters and platters of Mexican, Japanese, Indian, and Italian food – and after they cut the cake, after Thomas blew out the candles, not daring to look anywhere <em>near</em> Newt’s direction, after they went to the club, where he had his first whiskey sour in months, after he’d sat down to watch Sonya, Harriet, and Teresa request an upbeat pop song for karaoke, after Newt had sat down next to him, that he even <em>begins</em> to process all of his emotions.</p><p>“How’s almost being 28 going?”</p><p>Thomas shrugs, staring at his drink. “I’m closer to 30 than I’d like to be, that’s for sure.”</p><p>“Makes you feel like a real adult, doesn’t it?”</p><p>In more ways than one, that was for sure. “You’ve stayed at the Strathmore all this time. Why?”</p><p>Newt blinks. “Oh. Well – I suppose I ended up liking it more than I thought I would. And it’s not like the economy’s a great place for someone who decided to study British and American literature.”</p><p>Thomas laughs with him at that, almost blushing when their eyes connect. Almost.</p><p>“I like my coworkers, I like the work. I’m happy there.” Newt takes another sip of his own drink, eyeing Thomas. “There’s a rumor I’m hearing, you know.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“That you’re in the middle of different job offers.”</p><p>Thomas rolls his eyes. “That’s <em>not</em> true.”</p><p>“I thought so,” Newt says, rather smugly.</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>“You’re a creature of habit, Thomas. You don’t like change. You’re never going to leave.”</p><p>Thomas frowns, his shoulders stiffening. “<em>That’s</em> not true.”</p><p>Newt scoffs drily. “So then why don’t you apply for that job at the World Bank? Wasn’t it your dream once upon a time?”</p><p>The bottom of his glass might be empty, but Thomas’s head is still clear. He remembers when Newt used to bait him into arguments, by riling him up enough to make a difficult split-second decision.</p><p>“Did they put you up to this?”</p><p>Brief apprehension flickers across Newt’s face – the only tell he needs. “Who?”</p><p>Thomas looks over his shoulder, where Jeff and Gally are watching them rather unsubtly. The two of them quickly turn away, bumping into each other as they attempt to pretend they weren’t watching.</p><p>Thomas turns back to Newt, raising his eyebrow. Newt grimaces slightly. “They just want what’s best for you. And frankly, I do too. You don’t even like your job.”</p><p>But he liked being his own boss and he liked that his coworkers were his friends now. And it was hard to explain that while yes he <em>had</em> dreamed that he would be the President of the World Bank one day – he’d grown up since then. He was realistic now. His job was good, the money even better for someone who only had an undergraduate degree. Sure he didn't like his <em>job</em>, but who really liked their job at the end of the day?</p><p>Instead of taking more time to think on the subject, Thomas sighs and stands up. “This is far too heavy a conversation for a Friday night. Let’s get another drink.”</p><p>Thomas has quite a few drinks after that and then at midnight, his friends all put their arms around his shoulders and drunkenly sing,</p><p>
  <em>Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, you ugly shank! Happy birthday to you!</em>
</p><p>And even though Minho pours his glass of whiskey all over Thomas, the rest of their friends howling in laughter, causing them to get kicked out of the club – it’s one of the best birthday’s he had in a while.</p><p> </p><p>IX.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m thinking of moving back here.”</p><p>Thomas isn’t the only one who balks in surprise at Sonya’s sudden statement over brunch the next morning. “What?”</p><p>It’s the six of them, like it’s always been, at a rooftop bar having mimosas with their food. Brenda and Alby had stayed with Gally the night before and Jeff and Frypan had surprisingly hit it off, enough for Frypan to crash with him instead of at Thomas’s place. It all worked out for the best, considering his apartment was only big enough for him.</p><p>“There’s plenty of fashion companies in New York,” Sonya tells them, scooping up butter and spreading over her pancakes. “And I’m getting a bit tired of spending all this money to have to come see you guys all the time.”</p><p>Harriet rolls her eyes. “Well, no one told you to move to London in the first place.”</p><p>“No one told you to go to nursing school in <em>Canada</em>.”</p><p>“No one told you that was any of your business ­–”</p><p>“I think it’s great that Sonya’s thinking of moving back,” Minho cuts in. “Harriet, why don’t you move to New York too? And while you guys are at it, Thomas and Newt come right up, since I hear someone’s in the middle of job offers.”</p><p>Thomas rolls his eyes this time. “I’m not in the middle of job offers. But I do like the idea of Sonya moving back.”</p><p>Newt shakes his head. “She can be in the same country as me, but we cannot be in the same bloody city.”</p><p>“Aren’t you narcissistic? I’m not moving here for <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“Are you looking into jobs here?” Teresa asks, ever the peaceful mediator.</p><p>“Yeah some here,” Sonya confirms. Still looking at her pancakes, she adds, “and some in Paris.”</p><p>They all frown at her again. “Paris, <em>Texas</em>?” Thomas asks.</p><p>“Ha, ha.” Sonya says drily. “Paris, <em>France</em>. I’d be closer to Fashion Week.”</p><p>“There’s Fashion Week here,” Harriet reminds her. “Besides why get our hopes up that you’re moving back here if you’re actually thinking about moving to Paris?”</p><p>“I’m just keeping my options open.”</p><p>“Well I think everyone should move to New York.” Minho voices his opinion again. “That way we could meet up more often instead of just for special occasions. Speaking of special occasions –”</p><p>Thomas freezes in the middle of chewing his eggs.</p><p>“Thomas, happy birthday, you old man.”</p><p>“You’re almost a year older than me,” Thomas reminds him warily.</p><p>Minho ignores him, as usual. “And because you’re getting old, we all decided to chip in on a very special birthday present for you.”</p><p>Thomas stares each of them in the eyes, trying to discern how terrified he should be. But they all look like they’re ready to burst of excitements, with wide smiles and bright eyes.</p><p>“We rented a boat, we’re going to sail on the Potomac, and we’re going to set off fireworks!” Teresa finally exclaims.</p><p>Thomas’s jaw drops to the ground, at least 50 feet below them. “<em>What</em>?”</p><p>“The fireworks were supposed to be a surprise,” Newt scolds her playfully.</p><p>“Sue me. Thomas hates surprises, anyways.”</p><p>He might cry – he’d been <em>joking</em> when he’d mentioned renting a boat to Teresa and Minho for the fourth of July weekend. He’d hardly suspected they’d take it seriously. “I can’t believe this. How much did it cost? I have to pay you back –”</p><p>“You will do no such thing,” Harriet tells him, waving her fork at him. “Let us love you and celebrate you.”</p><p>“Can I at least buy you all champagne or something?”</p><p>Sonya laughs, elbowing him. “I’m not going to protest against that. But seriously, Thomas – we <em>wanted</em> to do this for you. Don’t get all sentimental about it.”</p><p>He tried not to. Not even when they all dressed up later that evening and got on the nicest boat Thomas had ever seen; Brenda, Alby, Gally, Jeff, and Frypan all meeting them on the dock. Thomas had gotten the nicest champagne he’d ever purchased in his life and popped the cork only once they had gotten on board, the sun set framing his silhouette as the champagne spilled ceremoniously from the bottle.</p><p>The boat even came with a licensed driver, who sailed them into the middle of the river as they all sipped on champagne and ate from a bread and cheese platter Brenda and Alby had brought. They weren’t <em>supposed </em>to play music, but Frypan had brought a mini-speaker and only played soft classic pop songs that didn’t overtly annoy their driver.</p><p>It was perhaps the best night Thomas had ever had, even rivaling some of his favorite college memories. Even when the fireworks went off and everyone whooped and cheered, taking pictures of a bashful Thomas, who was having a hard time believing he was worthy of all this love and attention from his friends.</p><p>Though a small part of him wished that they hadn’t gone through with such an elaborate, beautiful celebration. Only because he knew it would make saying goodbye to them the next evening even harder.</p><p>He tried not to let his spirits falter, but Newt always had an uncanny ability to read Thomas’s emotions. After they had gotten off the boat, and the rest of their friends had strayed ahead trying to figure out if they felt up for another club or if they all wanted to watch a movie, Newt fell into step with him. “I hope that was alright.”</p><p>Thomas scoffs. “It was more than alright. Probably the most perfect birthday I’ve ever had.”</p><p>Relief washes over Newt’s face, pale like the moonlight above them.</p><p>Thomas abruptly stops, his jaw dropping for the millionth time that day. “It was you, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“What?” Newt frowns.</p><p>But he has his own uncanny ability to read all of Newt’s facial expressions, to know all of his tells. “You planned this for me, didn’t you?”</p><p>If he hadn’t been sure before, he’s sure now by the flush that comes over Newt’s cheeks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p><p>Thomas cracks a grin. “You know I thought nothing would beat the stripper in the birthday cake, but I have to say you really outdid yourself here.”</p><p>Newt laughs. “You remember that time you tricked me into thinking you were getting arrested on my <em>birthday</em>? Who does that? You were out of your bloody mind.”</p><p>Thomas shrugs as they start walking again, noticing their friends looking behind at them curiously. “It was funny.”</p><p>“I was terrified! I thought you were going to jail and we wouldn’t have enough money to bail you out.”</p><p>Thomas chuckles. “I stand by it. Besides if Minho had been in charge, he would’ve asked Officer Tommy to use his gun to threaten us.”</p><p>Newt just shakes his head. “I’m just glad you had a good time tonight.”</p><p>A <em>good</em> time doesn’t feel adequate enough to describe the night. He opens his mouth, ready to try and say something dumb like, <em>what does this mean for us? </em> </p><p>“There is one more surprise, but it’d work better if it was just the two of us,” Newt says before Thomas can get the words out of his mouth. “Is that alright?”</p><p>Thomas nods, smiling softly. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>X.</p><p> </p><p>Their friends end up deciding to go out to a club that night, but true to Newt and Thomas fashion, they skip out early, because they’re ‘tired.’ No one, not even Jeff or Gally, believes them for a second, but they let them go and order another round of champagne for their table.</p><p>They take a taxi back to Thomas’s apartment where Newt had left his belongings that included Thomas’s final surprise for the night.</p><p>Thomas raises his eyebrows as Newt presents it to him. “A book? How nice.”</p><p>“Look <em>inside</em>.”</p><p>It was <em>The Picture of Dorian Gray</em> by Oscar Wilde, a book Thomas had liked back in college. He flipped through the pages when a pair of tickets fell to the floor.</p><p>Thomas stares at Newt, before reaching down to pick them up. “What are these?”</p><p>They were two airline tickets to Tahiti for the December holidays.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Thomas breathes out, staring at Newt. “Are you serious?”</p><p>“Well, to be honest, it’s all a holiday for all six of us, but I thought –” Newt’s voice trails off. “I thought maybe you and I could –”</p><p>The words unspoken linger in the air between them. <em>Maybe you and I could go together?</em></p><p>And it’s now that Thomas knows the answer to what Frypan had told him the night before, <em>Then I think you already know how you feel about just being friends.</em></p><p>Thomas lets the tickets fall to the floor again. Takes a step closer to Newt, though his heart is pounding so hard his chest hurts, and nods. “Okay.”</p><p>Newt raises his eyebrows. “Okay?”</p><p>But his hands are already wrapped around Thomas’s waist as Thomas leans into him. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>XI.</p><p>
  <em>Epilogue</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(Mid December)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, the Uber’s coming in a few minutes. Are you ready?”</p><p>Thomas had just finished zipping up his carry-on bag on his bed. At the end of September, he hadn’t moved out of his apartment, but he’d ended up gaining a roommate again.</p><p>He turns around as Newt pokes his head into the bedroom. “Coming.”</p><p>Their flight would be leaving in a few hours to arrive in Tahiti a couple of days before the rest of their friends. Two days just to themselves. Thomas had been looking forward to it for months.</p><p>He follows Newt back out into his living room, where Newt had decorated it with pieces sent in to the Strathmore that hadn’t been accepted for the end of the year art show. According to Newt – and the rest of their friends who came to visit – the pieces gave ‘character’ to Thomas’s previously ‘lifeless’ white walls with only a black leather couch to compliment them.</p><p>But before they could head out the door, Newt turns to Thomas. “You’re leaving your work phone here, right?”</p><p>Thomas rolls his eyes playfully, pointing to the cell phone on his kitchen island counter. “Yes, love. Piage won’t be able to reach me from Tahiti.”</p><p>Instead of applying for the jobs at either the World Bank or the Department of Treasury <em>or </em>the job Brenda had told him about – Thomas had stayed right where he was. But the Monday after his birthday weekend, he had gone into Ava Paige’s office and sat down in front of her desk, explaining that he wanted a promotion.</p><p>Paige stared at him, like he’d grown three heads in front of her. “You want what?”</p><p>He explained that he wanted more responsibilities. He wanted <em>her</em> job when she retired – to travel around the U.S, dealing directly with client complaints’ and concerns. Paige laughed at him. He just smiled back at her, crossing his legs in his chair. She then realized he was being serious and told him absolutely not, but Thomas had gone into her office expecting such an answer.</p><p>And decided he wasn’t going to accept that answer.</p><p>He’d gone back into his office and happily announced to Gally and Jeff, who had been waiting for him anxiously, that he was Ava Paige’s newest executive assistant.</p><p>That Friday, on his last day in the Wealth and Risks division, he’d invited Newt to the office that evening as he finished packing up his stuff. Ava’s old assistant had a nice enough office but it didn’t have the windows or the view that his did. He almost regretted his decision but he was happy for Jeff, who would be taking his place and his office as a result. He'd be happy to come down to the 45th floor from time to time, to see his friends and this view.</p><p>“You sure you’re going to be happy here?” Newt asked him. It was close to 6pm, when the sun had started to descend. The sky was burnt orange casting a golden glow over the skyscrapers around them, streaks of pink and purple clouds painting the reflection of the Potomac.</p><p>Thomas reached for Newt’s elbow and pulled him towards the window. “With a view like this, how could anyone be unhappy?”</p><p>Later when he was telling this story – of how they’d gotten back together – to Minho and Teresa’s kids, Newt would scoff and say he’d barely been looking out the window. Instead, he’d been looking right at Thomas.</p><p>“Yeah,” Newt had said back in that moment, a little dreamily. “Best view in the whole world.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>for <a href="https://twitter.com/swiftnewts">Dia</a> on twitter – originally, this story was going to incorporate the spain trip, but i ran out of time! maybe one day, i'll come back to it!</p><p>anyways anyways this chapter took me a lot longer than i expected to write, but i kind of like the idea of newt and thomas breaking up in winter and finding their way back to each other during the summer so i ended it here. thank you guys for reading!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>don't hate me tooooooooo much. if you've read any of my other fics, you'll know that newt and thomas are always pretty much together in the end. and of course they will be in this one x</p><p>just thought it would be an interesting idea to play around with one of them (thomas) not being able to adapt with change/struggling with post-collegiate life while it seemed like newt was doing fine – and what kinds of complications that would bring to their relationship. obviously, it did not go so well for them! </p><p>has anyone else ever been comforted by a stranger at the weirdest of locations? this scenario didn't exactly happen to me, it happened to a coworker of mine going through a rough breakup and when she was crying at a train station, a kind older woman told her she was going to be all right. i felt like it was more important for thomas to hear that from someone he didn't know, but it would mean more in the end. i don't know. i just find it fascinating how much a stranger's word of advice can be more comforting than the people we love.</p><p>will HOPEFULLY try to update frequently. only three chapters so hopefully i can keep a regular ~saturday~ night update. second chapter is almost done so that's some good news, i hope :) </p><p>please leave some feedback, or come talk to me about what you think so far! i'm ourlovelybones on tumblr or wckdisaks on twitter x</p></blockquote></div></div>
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